


Avengers one-shots and imagines (requests closed)

by SlytherinMind24



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Character Death, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Obsession, Requests, Romance, Smut, Swearing, one shots, song-suggestions, x Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 24,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24410515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinMind24/pseuds/SlytherinMind24
Summary: Avengers one-shots and imagines. Requests are open. Hope you enjoy :)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Loki (Marvel)/Reader, More/reader, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader, Tony Stark/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 50





	1. How you meet (original six)

Tony Stark

You adjust your blazer, taking a deep breath and staring at the door of the meeting room. Professionally, you're ready for the meeting, ideas at the front of your mind and ready to impress. Personally, however, you can't wait to get home and relax in a bubble bath, feet killing from your heels and brain exhausted from working all day. You clear your throat one last time before pushing open the door and striding inside. 

Instantly, your eyes go over to the guest of honour, Tony Stark himself, as you sit down. His gaze turns to you but you quickly look away, certain you saw him smirk before you do so while you just groan mentally. To say you aren't a fan of the billionaire is an understatement. Sure, he's good looking enough, but you find his arrogance and playboy nature annoying. 

You soon lose interest in the meeting, instead deciding that staring blankly at the paper in front of you is a better option. 

Hearing your name, your head snaps up and you gulp before jumping up and heading to the front of the room to give your presentation. You're thankful that it's soon over and you're collecting your papers when you realise someone's stood in front of you. Glancing up, you see Stark with a smirk on his face as you blush in embarrassment.

"Good presentation. I look forwards to working with you," he says.

"Same," you reply. 

He holds out a hand and you awkwardly shift the stack in your arms to shake it, feeling a couple scars under your skin. 

"Tony." 

"(Y/N)" you respond. 

"Nice to meet you," he smirks. 

Someone calls him and he gives you an exaggerated eye roll before flashing a smile. With one last goodbye, he's already walking away. Maybe Tony Stark isn't that bad. 

\-------------------------------

Bruce Banner

You run your fingers over the cool metal of the gun in your hands, eyeing it wearily. Behind you, you can hear the rest of your team inspecting the Chitauri weapons that have been salvaged from the battle of New York. It might be your job, but you quite like looking at them close up, seeing what literal aliens use to fight. Still, you know how dangerous they are. 

Briefly looking away from your work, you spot Doctor Banner quietly working away by himself. To say that you have gained a slight crush on him in the few weeks you'd been doing this job would be true, yet you hadn't done anything about it. After all, you've never actually spoken to him before despite working together and you doubt he actually knows your name. Turning away from him, you look back at the weapon with a slight pink blush. 

Suddenly, there's a loud crash and a few people yell in shock as the sound of them dropping their weapons echoes. You quickly spin around to see that there's a green tinge to Doctor Banner's skin and you immediately know what's about to happen. The rest of your colleagues rush out of the room, however you run towards the scientist instead. 

He's shaking slightly, slowly growing as the green spreads more rapidly. You're panicking for sure, but something makes you grab his arm and gently rub it as you crouch down beside him. Surprisingly, you realise the colour starts to fade after a while and before you know it, Doctor Banner is once again sat in front of you. He gives you an embarrassed look but you just smile, face flushing when you realise how closely you're both sat. 

"Thank you, I don't want to think what would have happened if you weren't here..." he mumbles. 

"(Y/N), and it's really no problem, Doctor Banner," you reply quietly. 

He gives you a sheepish smile as he stands, offering you his hand to help you up. His hand is somewhat rough against your skin, maybe something the Hulk was at fault for. 

"Bruce. I'll, um, get get this cleaned up," he says, gesturing to the mess around you both. 

"Ok. I-I'll see you later," you mutter.

With one last, shared smile, you slip out of the room and into the hallway of the SHIELD base, heading to the cafeteria. 

\----------------------------

Natasha Romanoff 

"How long on that pizza?" you shout. 

"Five minutes," the chef, Anna, yells back from the kitchen. 

Sighing, you grab your clothe and begin to wipe down a recently abandoned table, collecting the payment and shoving the tip into your pocket. You glance over at the group in the corner, deciding they can wait the five minutes without you having to speak to them. With the table clean, you head over to the counter where you deposit the money into the register before leaning on it and watching the mostly empty diner. 

The small bell above the door jingles and you glance up to see a couple enter. The yellowish lights in the room show your newest customers, a man with light brunet hair and a woman with shoulder length red hair, in your opinion, perfectly highlighted by the glow. You have a feeling they both grin as they spot you, but your focus is one her perfect smile. Snapping out of it, you return the gesture, adjusting your stance so it doesn't look like you're just slouching. 

"Hi, miss. Have a table where we can sit?" the man asks. 

As soon as he speaks, you realise your newest patrons are none other than the Black Widow and Hawkeye. You're slightly shocked as you nod and lead them over to a space table where they promptly sit. Natasha smirks as you make to move away, bringing a blush to your cheeks as you head back to the counter. 

"Order up!" 

You're thankful Anna's finished the food so you can avoid having to interact with the two superheros. You quickly carry the pizza to your original customers before realising you can't ignoring them forever and walking up to their table, pulling out your notepad.

"What can I get for you?" you ask. 

"I'll have the... hamburger and fries," Clint Barton requests.

"And you?" you turn to the red head, slightly embarrassed. 

"Same as him, thanks," she smiles. 

You nod before making your way over to the kitchen window where you find Anna casually leaning, watching you with a smirk. Dropping the book in front of her, you raise an eyebrow at her expression. 

"What?"

"Oh, (Y/N)," she just sighs. 

Confused, you follow her gaze to see the red head looking at you, glancing away almost immediately. You smile despite your blush as she takes the orders and retreats into the kitchen, leaving you to occasionally turn to briefly lock eyes with Natasha. 

\---------------------------------

Clint Barton 

An annoyed sigh tears from your lips as you check your phone, realising you're late. If that wasn't bad enough, the guy you're meant to be going out with has bailed the previous two times, making today the only day you two can meet without him flaking. The sound of thunder cracking makes you look up, only for thick droplets of rain to hit your face. Huffing, you quickly slide your phone into your pocket before walking forwards. 

Somehow, you're already drenched from the rain and your hair is sticking to your face. It feels like your previous good mood has been swept away by the downpour. Blinking rain water out of your eyes, you look around grumpily, seeing that the streets are mostly deserted. Although you're wet and your clothes are stuck to your skin, you can't find it in yourself to run the rest of the way back home. 

The torrential rain is suddenly stopped from hitting your head and you look up to see a man smiling down at you, arm outstretched to hold his umbrella over your head. You smile at first before realising he's now being soaked thanks to the fact he has no shelter from the rain and wince. 

"Sorry," you almost have to shout over the sound of the weather. 

His hair flops around his forehead as he quickly shakes his head, stopping when he realises he's just sending water flying everywhere. Giving you a slight grin, he wipes his face before holding the umbrella further over you, keeping the previously exposed side dry from the further attacks of the rain. 

"It's fine," he yells back.

"There's enough room for two, ok? I'm not about to Titanic you, get under here," you respond. 

He laughs, the sound almost drowned out but not quite, making you smile as well. After a moment, he slides under the shelter beside you, still chuckling quietly as you snicker. He slowly begins to walk forwards and you follow suit, both of you going a sluggish pace to make sure you stay covered. Every so often, you feel his body bump lightly against yours as you wander through the city streets in the direction of your apartment. 

"I'm Clint, by the way," he says. 

"(Y/N), nice to meet you," you smile.

"You too." 

He holds out a hand that you shake before you both drop each other's hands at the same time, giggling when the two of you realise it was only making you more damp. After a while of mindless chattering, you stop outside your building, almost passing it since you can barely see anything aside from Clint thanks to the rainfall. 

"This is me," you tell him. 

"Right, I'll see you around?" it's more a question than anything.

"Sure," you say in a light giggle. 

"I'm not sure if you're laughing because I'm charming or at me," he says. 

"At you, Barton. Definitely at you," you mock. 

He smirks, knowing you're joking, before leading you up the steps and to the door. With a last goodbye, you slip inside, catching one last sight of his soaked appearance and playful grin before you shut the door with a smile. 

\---------------------------------

Thor Odinson 

You smile at the colourful pictures in the book in your hands, eyes trailing over the small people. Despite knowing Asgard, and other planets, are real thanks to Thor helping when aliens invaded New York, you still love reading about it, even if most of the stories aren't true.

You find that there's something beautiful in the way the drawings show the palace and rainbow bridge. You've always been interested in Norse Mythology and now that you know it's real, you found you've been even more obsessed. You're glad you managed to find a bookshop with a good amount of books on the subject, even if it is on the other side of the city. 

The bell above the door chimes but you ignore it, sliding the book back onto the rustic shelf. Your fingers brush against the spines of the books before landing on one you've never read before. They must have gotten a new shipment. You soon realise the book is solely about the God of Thunder himself, the very same you'd seen on the news at least a hundred times. Strangely enough, you subconsciously took notices to all the differences in his appearance in literature to real life. 

Feeling a presence being you, you turn slightly, freezing in place when you see none other than the man in the book stood in front of you. You're lost for words as he gives you a large grin, eyes flittering down to your book for a second as you simply stare at him, blinking in surprise when his blue eyes meet yours. 

"I didn't realise someone would be reading this particular book. Apologies..." he trailed off in his deep voice.

His unasked question hung in the air for a few moment before you realise what he's asking. 

"(Y/N) (L/N)," you reply.

"Apologies, (Y/N). I will return when the book is unoccupied," he says. 

"Take it," you blurt out. 

His hair (shorter than you'd seen from the news of New York) glints gold in the sun as he tilts his head slightly. For a second he stares at you before another grin lights up his face. As you hand the book to him, he grabs your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles. You can't help but blush at the attention for the god as he takes the book. 

"Why do you need it, anyway? Surely you know about yourself?" you ask shyly. 

"You Midgardians have a different view of me than I do. I would like to explore it. Perhaps you could help?" he questions. 

For the second time that day, you blush for a moment, before smiling, and nodding. 

"I'd like that," you agree. 

"Then I shall see you here again. Goodbye for now." 

"Yeah, bye," you mumble. 

He grins before bowing his head slightly and leaving the store, leaving you staring after him in awe. 

\--------------------------

Steve Rogers 

You shuffle slightly in your dress, glancing around at the other people stood around you. They're all wearing their best formal clothes and you don't even know more than half of them. But you'd wanted to pay your respects for those lost in World War 2, your grandfather having been part of the war effort all that time ago.

As the crowd parts slightly, you walk forwards to his grave, noticing that it's one of the most impressive there. Your eyes scan over Colonel Chester Philips embedded on the stone, kneeling down to place the flowers in your hand on the tomb. There's a lot of people around you, not surprising since he was one of the founders of SHIELD and a war hero, but thankfully they give you space. 

Someone stands behind you and you turn to snap at them for interrupting your time with your grandfather. The words are on the tip of your tongue when you realise the man stood behind you in none other than Captain America himself. Even though he's wearing a hat and glasses, you can tell it's him looking front the front. He towers over you thanks to that super soldier serum, offering you a small smile before he looks towards the grave. 

"He was a good man," he says quietly. 

"I know. He was my gramps," you reply sadly, meddling with your sleeve. 

"I'm sorry," Rogers answers, sounding genuine. 

"Yeah, well, I never knew him that well," you sigh. 

"I did," he replies. 

You tilt your head up to look at him to see him give you another little smile that you hesitantly return. For a moment, you realise how nice it is that you can just talk to him like he's a normal person. 

"How?" you ask. 

"He was my commanding officer. He was strict, but honest, persevering," he says. 

"That sounds like him," you laugh softly. 

Captain America joins in and you notice how his bright blue eyes sparkle despite the surrounding sadness. After a second, he seems to realise something and his hand shoots out, quickly shaking yours. 

"Steve," he mumbles. 

"(Y/N)," you reply. 

He nods and you both smile at each other for a moment before you feel a gentle hand on your back. Your mother silently urges for you to move away to allow the next group of mourners their time. With a quick goodbye and offer to meet up again, you brush past Steve, exiting the building.


	2. Becoming friends

Tony Stark 

Laughing, you aim your empty sprite can at Tony's back, unable to stop your giggling at his joke, even if it was at your expense. He's still chuckling to himself even though he turned around to dump the two of yours' empty takeout containers on the counter, muttering about cleaning later. You throw the can at the just the right moment as it hits him right in the forehead when he's turning back to face you. 

For a moment he just stares at you in complete shock while you burts out laughing again. He looks stunned as you roll around on his couch, an expression of disbelief plastered on his face. Once your laughing is under control, you, panting slightly, sit up, watching as he huffs in annoyance, only bringing on a fresh wave of giggles. 

"Abusing me in my own home," he finally cries in fake shock. 

"Yep," you grin. 

He rolls his eyes before dropping onto the couch beside you, poking you teasingly in the side and making you squeal. Snickering, he grabs the remote to his extravagant TV before switching on your favourite show. You give him a look he just shrugs to. 

"Need to distract you somehow," he just mumbles. 

Humming thoughtfully, you curl up, staring intently at the screen as the video starts. 

\----------------------------

Bruce Banner

"I don't think you've done that," Bruce cries indignantly. 

You give him a playful scowl before grinning and nodding furiously as he shakes his head. A small smile pulls at his lips as you insist you really did TP your school library. He doesn't seem to believe that you could have been so rebellious back when you were younger and, even though you want to tell him you'd never do something like that now, you enjoy seeing the surprise on his face.

"Did too, Banner. What, you don't think I can be a bad girl?" you smirk. 

He mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like a 'no', causing you to gasp in fake shock. He just grins sheepishly before you lightly slap his arm, glancing up when the door clips open. One of your colleagues walks in, eyes flickering anxiously between you and Bruce before he grabbed his bag and left. The two of you look at each other for a moment before the scientist snickers and you both burst out laughing. 

\--------------------------------

Natasha Romanoff 

You sigh rather loudly, causing Natasha to look up from the article on the counter where she's sat. Raising her eyebrows, she gives you a look that you return with a pout while she just rolls her eyes at you. You proceed to make her listen to you loudly complain about your boredom, ignoring the fact that she's paying no mind to you at all. Huffing in annoyance, you jump up from your couch, walking over to where she's sat in the conjoined kitchen. 

"Nat... I'm bored," you whine. 

"Go do something, then," she replies without looking up. 

Even though she can't see you, you frown, dropping onto the barstool beside her. You rest your head on your hands, peering from her side at the magazine in her hands. For the second in which you glance up at her, you swear you see her smiling at you before she looks away. 

You feel your cheeks warm up for a moment before she's sighs exaggeratedly, much like you did only minutes ago. Throwing the article on the counter, she pushes it slightly closer to you, making you grin happily. Again, you swear her annoyance fades as she smiles before the expression is gone. 

\----------------------------------

Clint Barton 

You prop your feet up on the coffee table, watching as Clint smirks at you before dropping onto the couch beside you. Grinning, you lean forwards slightly to grab the book resting on the table, sitting back quickly. Seeing the title as Dear John you raise your eyebrows before grinning widely, watching as he flushes slightly. 

"I didn't know you liked this kind of thing," you tease.

"It's a good story. Why do you ask?" he mumbles. 

"Teasing you's fun," you admit. 

"Don't get cocky, (Y/N). I'm a spy, remember? Give me five minutes and I'll ruin you," he warns jokingly. 

Laughing, you smile at him, doubling over slightly when he snatches the book from our hands, dropping it beside him. You give him a questioning look to which he just shrugs, giving you a small smile. 

\-------------------------------

Thor Odinson 

Turning your head to the side, you see Thor searched through your kitchen cabinets, his face lighting up in a grin moments later. From inside the cupboard, he pulls out a packet of Pop Tarts, making you smile slightly. Even in the short time you've known him, you can't deny the fact that he loves the treat. It's funny to you that he likes the food so much, considering the fact that Asgard must have things you can't even dream of. 

Aside from their clothing style, what you've read or seen elsewhere and what Thor's told you, it's hard for you to imagine what another, livable planet must be like. Impossible as it may be, you can't help but wish the God of Thunder will take you there one day. You feel a slight heat rise to your cheeks as you think this. 

"Say, (Y/N)." 

His gruff voice startles you and you look up quickly, nodding for him to continue. You notice that he's staring intently at the back of the packaging in his hand.

"Why do Midgardians use such obscure naming for their food?" 

You can't help but snort at the genuine curiosity in his voice as you shake your head, sitting up a bit straighter on your couch. 

"It's just how they make the flavour," you reply with a shrug.

"Hmm, yes, humans are strange," he concludes. 

Giving you a large grin, he finished the snacks in one, causing you to giggle as you slide back down to how you were sat before. Even if it's just for now, you're happy with the world.

\--------------------------

Steve Rogers 

You shake your head at the super soldier, a teasing smirk on your face. In front of you, he shakes his head with a soft smile, resting his arms as his side from where they were previously attacking the punching bag. You lean against the wall, the same position you've been in the entire time you've been watching him train. Definitely not admiring the incredible job the super soldier serum had done. Definitely not. 

"So, if I were to ask, say, Tony, he wouldn't confirm that you've never kissed anyone since you went under?" you tease your friend. 

He blushes a deep scarlet, causing you to laugh as he gives you an embarrassed look. World War 2 fighter or not, you love to tease him. 

"You could always not ask him," he mumbles. 

"Where's the fun in that?" you shoot back. 

You both share a grin before he turns back to the bag, sending it flying across the room. It's your turn to blush as you watch this and Cap grins, knowing exactly what he's doing. There's still a light pink dusting on his cheeks, but he hooks up another bag without acknowledging it, and you do your best to do the same. Being friends with Captain America is so confusing.


	3. All of me (Jasmine Thompson) Natasha Romanoff

Leaning over the kitchen island of your apartment, you smile softly as Natasha as she inspects one of your knives. The smell of gingerbread hangs heavily in the air, wafting over from your oven where you're making cookies. Your girlfriend (you love saying that) decided she wanted to spend some time together and you, ever the romantic, chose to bake with her. Surprisingly, she took quite well to it, assisting you in mixing the ingredients and joking around while you two worked. There's a slight breeze from the window you previously opened a crack in an attempt to cool down the room since the baking snacks had warmed the room.

You find the way she admires the bladed object mesmerising, the way her fingers delicately trace over it, hair swaying in front of her perfect face as she looked at it. She may act tough most of the time, but you love to see this softer, gentler side of her. Even if she is basically checking out a knife. 

She looks up suddenly, a half smirk on her face as she catches you looking at her. You find yourself immediately blushing as she discovers you, glancing away before looking back at her shyly. With a light laugh, she reaches over the counter to tuck hair behind your ear, snickering when your flush only deepens. 

"Shut up," you mumble. 

"Oh? And here I thought you enjoyed my company," she mocks. 

"Of course I do! But, if you're going to embarrass me, in my own home, no less, I'm going to have some problems," you cry.

She looks shocked for a moment before she simply raises an eyebrow, shaking her head lightly. Rubbing the back of your neck, you walk round the counter and wrap your arms around her waist, smiling when she leans back into you. She's slightly taller than you, yet your hair brushes her shoulder when you put your head on her shoulder. 

"You're ridiculous," she mutters. 

"I know," you reply and she snickers again, only this time you join in. 

For a while, the two of you stand there together, enjoying the comfortable silence that ensures before the oven dings and you all but jump over the counter to get to the cookies. Pulling them out, you grin widely seeing the perfect treats, placing them on the side as Tasha joins you. Seeing your excited smile, she laughs, a melodic sound to your ears, as she squeezes your hand. You notice that, proud as she seems, something lurks behind her eyes, a sort of sadness.

"You ok?" you ask softly. 

"Of course," she responds with the grace of a spy. 

"Nat..." you trail off, gently prompting her. 

Her resolve doesn't waver, however, as you stare pleadingly at her. Until she sees your puppy eyes and graces you with a low sigh that makes your heart skip a beat. She's not looking at you, instead staring off out the window, watching the oblivious people below.

"It's just..." you see how she hesitates here. "You're really good at little things like this, (Y/N). I don't have any skills like you."

"You have loads of skills," you protest.

She gives you a look that you just shake your head sadly to, trying to show her there's so much about her only you seem to be able to see. So much wonderful joy lurking beneath her mask. 

"Like what? Killing people?" she questions. 

Even though her voice is soft, you can't help but flinch, wishing she could look past that. 

"There's more to you than that," you say.

"Maybe. But I can't do small things, the things that matter, like other people can. I can't cook or take care of plants or take you to family reunions. Do you honestly want that?" 

You stare at her, slightly shocked at her outburst, watching as she looks away from you. Taking her hand in yours, you smile as her gaze returns to you, lacing you fingers together. 

"I don't care if you can do any of that, I can teach you if it's that big a deal. Plus, I don't think anyone can take care of plants. It's really hard. But that's not the point. The point is that I like you for you, Tasha. So, if you don't wanna do stuff like this, I get it, but just know that, if you do, I'm here."

Feeling like you've said too much, you cut off your rambling, taking a breath. It's your turn to glance away awkwardly as the red head's silent in front of you, her hand frozen beneath yours. Turning back to her, you open your mouth to break the silence, however your plan is foiled when she grabs your chin and guides your lips to her's. 

You immediately place a hand on her arm as she puts her free one on your waist, pulling you closer to her. Her lips move in synch with yours and you can almost feel the appreciation shining through without words needed, making you melt into the kiss. Finally, she moves back slightly, a small smile on her face as she looks down at you through her lowered lashes. Her hand reaches up and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, causing your cheeks to flush again. 

"You're cute," she says, almost a whisper. 

"So are you," you mumble back, still dazed from the kiss. 

She giggles slightly, already moving back to where she was previously stood at the counter, her hair swinging behind her as she walks. Grabbing a cookie, she bites into it, sending you a wink as you breath deeply, regaining your sanity and picking up your own snack, lacing your free hands together over the counter that sits between you.


	4. Next to me (Imagine Dragons) Wanda Maximoff

The city is crumbling around you, cracks running along the middle of the road and parts of buildings dropping like rain to the ground around you. Through the fall of dust, you can see the glint of a thousand of those metal men swarming around the sky, chasing after the screaming residents of Sokovia. A flash crosses the sky, like a beam of energy, and you find yourself knowing exactly who it is: Tony Stark. Iron Man. 

Wanda told you all about him, of course, and about how he was the once who made the bomb that was dropped on her and Pietro when they were younger. You feel rage bubble inside of you at the thought that he ruined their lives. You first met the Maximoffs just after the bombing at the shelter all the kids were sent to. You three were the lucky survivors, you guess. A few years later, after establishing a relationship with the red head, they had disappeared. Until they turned up in the middle of the city, displaying the new powers that weird facility had given them, that is. 

A wave of hopelessness crashes through you as you realise you're probably not going to see Wanda again. The destruction around you prevents your escape to the lifeboats everyone else is boarding, and you doubt the Avengers will save you. After all, the city is flying and the wave of robots is surely where their main focus is. 

The sound of something cracking causes you to look up, eyes widening. The slab of concrete is large enough to kill you the second it falls, and you can already see it sliding forwards towards the edge. Strange, death wasn't something you'd thought would come so soon. 

It moves quicker than you thought it would have, and you drop to your knees as it plummets towards you, waiting for impact. But it never comes. You look up curiously to see tendrils of red mist coiled around the boulder, holding it above you. Wanda. You spin around to see her stood outside of where the rubble has fallen, holding her hands out with a look of deep concentration on her face that turns into a smile when she sees you. You feel yourself grin, knowing that, happy as you are to see her, there's no way you're getting to where she is in time. 

Suddenly, you feel someone wrap an arm around your waist before you're being pulled out from under the rock. You're away from it in almost a second, standing beside your girlfriend with shock written across your face. She drops the rock with a huff, looking out of breath but relieved, spinning to face you as Pietro speeds off. 

You block out the sound of rubble crashing as she places a hand on your neck, pulling you towards her. It's a reflex for you to wrap your arms around her waist, tangling a hand into her hair as your lips meet. Ignoring your surroundings, you melt as she places a hand on your lower back, holding you like it's your last day alive. And maybe it is. 

Pulling back, you wipe dirt off her cheek with your thumb, grinning despite the destruction around you. A loud bang sounds and she looks over your shoulder to see whatever it is, however you don't want to look away from her. 

"You need to get on those lifeboats," she orders gently. 

"Wanda, I want to stay and help -"

"Go, please, (Y/N), I need you to be safe." 

Your Sokovian accents mix as she stares at you pleadingly, begging for you to run. You hate to leave her, powers or not, but your logical side screams for you to listen to her. Giving her a last, long look, you turn, pulling your arms back to yourself, and sprint towards the safety. A couple of robots fly towards you, but they're easily pushed to the side by Wanda's powers. 

Even despite the dire situation, you can't help but smile, stumbling slightly when you reach the lifeboat. When you turn back to look at her, you can feel disappointment flood through you when she's gone, only fading red mist left behind.

You don't know how long you waited before you saw your girlfriend again. The city has started to drop at a tremendous speed back towards the ground and you're yet to see Wanda again. Ignoring the warnings, you cling to the side, looking down in hopes to see her. To your immense relief, a red figure flies up from the debris carrying her, placing her down beside you. 

Flinging your arms around her, you almost cry as you hold onto her, letting her hug you back. You burry your face into her hair, not even caring about the horrible smell. It's only then that you realise she's clinging tightly to you, sobbing harder than you've ever seen before. You don't move back, knowing that whatever's happened, she needs you. 

"Pietro," she mumbles, voice thick with tears. 

You get a sinking feeling in your stomach, already somehow knowing what's happened to him to make her cry so much. Pulling her even closer to you, you let her sob her heart out, curling onto the floor of the lifeboat with her. She's clearly pouring out all the built up frustrations and sadness for her brother. You don't care about the stares the two of you are recieving, focusing instead on comforting your girlfriend, letting your own tear fall as you think of your childhood friend not coming back from sleep. 

She clings to the bottom of your tatted, dirty hoodie, crying only stopping when she runs out of breath. The ride to wherever this vehicle is taking you must be halfway done by the time you shifts slightly, the sound of her sobbing ending. You don't move from the embrace, letting her lie with you while you stroke her hair, knowing no one can bring Pietro back, but hoping you can make her forget about it for a while.


	5. I love you (Billie Eilish) Stephen Strange

The rain thunders outside, pounding against the window as if it's trying through into the room. The city streets can't be seen from how high up Stephen's apartment is, though the tops of the other buildings are shrouded in a heavy fog made by the downpour. Well, from what you can see through the raindrops that cover the window, that is. Even from above the clouds, you can tell there's hardly anyone out and about. Not that you can blame them. The rain is so heavy you can practically feel it, hearing it crashing against the window reminding you that you are, in fact, indoors.

Turning, you sigh slightly, the warmth of your mug able to be felt even though you're holding it with your sleeves over your hands. You take a sip, smiling as your catch sight of Stephen laying on the couch, a hand covering his face. Shaking your head at his exhausted figure, you take a seat on the floor in front of where his head is lying, watching as he turns to you with a smirk. It's the same smirk he normally wears, the one that's earned him position as lead surgeon at his hospital that shows he knows he's good at what he does. 

Rolling your eyes, you lean back, letting your hair caress his hand when he lowers it, sitting up. Seeing the circles around his eyes, you wish again that he'd stop working so hard and get some sleep for once. And stay asleep, too. You hate waking up at 2am to see him gone, especially knowing he only arrived a half hour earlier. Of course, you're proud that he's so good at doing what he loves, but his health is more important. To you, at least. You just wanted him to have a day off. 

"Damn rain," he mutters.

You follow his gaze towards the balcony where the plants are soaked to the point that you doubt they're going to grow properly after today. Wincing slightly, you sigh, glad to be inside the warm apartment and out of the downpour. Stephen shifts behind you, swinging his legs off the couch and standing up, walking towards his kitchen where he pours himself a cup of coffee. With a quiet sigh he didn't quite catch, you also stand, leaning against a counter and sipping your drink, the warm liquid sliding down your throat. Closing your eyes for a moment, you smile at the warmth of the room, the taste of your beverage and the tap of the rain against the window. 

"Is it just me or are you enjoying that drink more than my company?" 

His voice snaps you out of your small trance and you turn to face him, eyeing his smirk as you do so. You feel a twinge of annoyance that you brush aside almost immediately, ignoring the fact that he's been avoiding you for his work a lot lately. Despite your misgivings, you grin, putting your mug down on the side with a quiet thud. Turning back to face him, you shake your head in a silent reply, hearing him snort lightly. The sound of his amusement sends a happy thrill through you.

He crosses the room in an instant, sliding his arms either side of your body and staring down at you with that same expression. You see his eyes glance down and you wrap your arms around his neck, effectively drawing his attention. 

"You know, it is a really nice drink," you tease. 

"Maybe I should buy a different machine, then," he mutters dryly. 

Giggling, you're shocked when he brings his lips down to meet yours, though not upset. Your hand roams the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you as you tilt your head upwards. Pulling back, he smirks at you, biting his lip. You feel your heart rate speed up and, as he looks down at you, you realise what the feeling in your chest is.

"I love you."

It's only a whisper but it halts him in his tracks, leaving the only sound in the room your combined breathing. It's almost as if he's afraid to move or look away, frozen staring down at you as you shallow nervously. You glance away feeling heat rising to your cheeks, almost wishing to take it back. Still not saying a word, he hooks his fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze back up to meet his. Scared of what he'll say, you take a breath, caught off guard when he kisses you again. 

It's feels familiar but also somehow different, a new sort of adoration shining through. You move your head back, a shy, hopeful smile on your face. He looks hesitant for a moment before he gives you a real, genuine grin. 

"I love you too." 

Elated, you pull him back towards you, feeling him hold you closer to him. Resting your head against his, you smile, a faint ray of light shining through the rain covered window.


	6. Happy together (Trouvere) Peter Parker

Your pen scribbles down your homework and like everytime, you wonder why you've left it so late. Algebra is not your favourite subject, perhaps explaining why you stuck doing it the night before it's due in. Resting your head in your hand, you scowl down at the paper in frot of you, debating wether or not to just google. It had seemed like too much effort before, but you are seriously thinking about it now. Yeah, even students of a school for geniuses use the internet for their answers.

Hearing your phone beep, you huff in relief, deciding it's a welcome distraction. It's a text and seeing who it's from makes you instantly smile, opening your messages, homework forgotten. A light laugh escapes your lips as you see a picture of Peter in is Spiderman suit sat on the ledge of a building without his mask on. He's giving you a cute smile, perfectly tousled hair clearly blowing in the wind despite the image only being a picture. 

Giggling, you quickly text him back, telling him to be careful on his patrol. A smile seeming to be stuck on your face, you return to your homework, filled with determination to get it done. 

You've been working for a while now whena knock sounds from your bedroom window. Looking over to it, you grin seeing Spiderman perched on the windowsill outside. Sliding open the glass, you step back for him to climb inside, thankful your parents are out for the night. 

He pulls of his mask as you drop onto your bed, revealing his wide smile and wild curls. He greets you before you notice his gaze wondering over to your homework, making you groan at this, knowing he'll make you complete it. At his stern look, you climb to your feet, making a show of not being happy about it as you sit at your desk. Chuckling, he grabs a chair and pulls it up beside you, leaning his head on your shoulder as you both look at the school work. 

"Do you have any idea how to do this?" you ask. 

"Yeah, um, it's quite easy if you think about it," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Sighing, you pick up your pencil, hearing him laugh quietly as you do so. 

"Here, let me show you how you to it," he offers.

He begins to explain what you thought only moments before to be the hardest thing on Earth as if its nothing. After a while, you lose focus in the math, instead just listening to him talk. By the time you realise he's stopped, he's grinning at you shyly, causing you to blush at being caught. 

"Sorry, it really was interesting, I promise," you ramble. 

"It's alright, gorgeous. Just try to focus on the work," he smiles.

Nodding, you turn back to the algebra, taking a breath to focus yourself as he explains again. Before long, your work is done and the two of you are laying on your bed, taking about whatever comes to mind. Your fingers are tangled with his, bodies brushing when you laugh. You tilt your head to look at him, eyes darting down to his lips as you freeze for a moment. He has a light pink dusting across his cheeks but smiles anyway. 

Moving forwards, you kiss him gently, jumping back when you hear your front door open. He gives you a panicked look as you both jump up, you rushing to open your window while he pulls on his mask. He runs over to you, lifting it just enough to peck your lips before climbing through the window.

"See you at school," you say.

"Bye," he replies. 

You close the window as he swings away, dropping into your seat at your desk as your mom opens the door. She smiles when she sees you 'working' and you return it, scribbling down your name before putting down your pencil. 

"You get up to anything while we were gone?" she asks.

"Nope, just homework," you reply, attempting a convincing smile.

"Alright, get some sleep, honey, you have to be up for school tomorrow," she says, more sternly now. 

Nodding, you stand up before shutting the door behind her and changing before dropping onto your bed. You drift of with Peter's smile in your mind.


	7. Mr Sandman (SYML) Tony Stark

You may not have expected Tony to be in your shared bedroom by the time you get back from your outing, but it's disappointing not to see him anyway. You don't need to ask Jarvis where he is to know he's in his lab downstairs. With a quiet sigh, you drop your bag before quickly slipping into some more comfortable clothes and heading down the stairs. Without shoes on (probably a mistake) the steps are colder than desirable, though the air is warm and the chill isn't too unbearable. Before long, you reach the door and gingerly push it open, peering inside the lab. 

The lights are on, so it's pretty obvious he's down here, though you can't see him right in front of you so you decide he must of headed to the back whenever he came in. There's the sound of machinery whirring and a soft clanging coming from further into the room and you head towards the sound, shutting the door quietly behind you. You don't want to disturb Tony, knowing that he's in his element even if he should be sleeping.

Now that you're closer, you can hear him muttering to himself, or maybe he's talking to Jarvis. It's hard to tell, sometimes. Quietly as possibly, you walk round the small corner, stopping and leaning on a counter when he comes into sight, a small smile on your lips. He's bent over some contraption or other, you're not quite sure what it is; it could be anything from a new Iron Man suit to the toaster that decided to break last week. He hasn't noticed you yet, and you take this moment to just look at him as he works, stress free and enjoying himself, having fun with a project. 

You sigh happily and he jumps, quickly spinning around, relaxing when he sees it's just you. Although you laugh, you're blushing slightly, though the easy smile on his lips takes away some of your embarrassment. 

"Hey, (Y/N)."

His greeting is light and he turns back to his work soon after saying it, tinkering with whatever he's doing. Without hesitating, you drop onto the ground beside him, wishing you'd brought a pillow to sit on like he has. He glances up for a moment as you lean over a bit to look at what he's doing, only managing to figure out that whatever's going on, there's a lot of wires.

"Uh, Tony, what're you doing?" you can't help but ask.

"Trying to fix the microwave," he mumbles.

You frown at this, not the answer you were expecting. It seems like such a strange thing to be up so late for, even if he didn't have anything else to do.

"It's broken?"

"Yeah, Rogers managed to press the buttons too hard, can you believe it?"

"Honestly, yes. What about the toaster, though. Have you gotten around to fixing that yet?"

His fingers pause around the screwdriver and he refuses to look at you, making you roll your eyes, already knowing the answer. You've been reminding him since it broke and he still hasn't done it. He gives you a small, sheepish smile you can't help but snicker at, unable to be mad at him. Shaking your head lightly, you lean into him, feeling him tilt his head on top of yours as he continues to fix the appliance. It's not hard to believe that Steve broke it since it's a common occurrence to find the super soldier accidentally breaking something. He seems to forget his strength sometimes.

The late hours seems to be catching up to you now as you suppress a yawn, blinking in an attempt to stay awake. Before long, however, you're dozing off on Tony's shoulder. Your eyes are closed and you're on the edge of sleep when you feel fingers softly caress the hair off your face. You don't even realise the sound of machinery has stopped. 

"I love you."

Tony's voice is soft and gentle, lulling you fully into sleep beside him.


	8. Born to be Yours (Kygo & Imagine Dragons) Sam Wilson

"Seriously? Captain America?" you question.

Your mouth hangs open as your boyfriend, Sam, nods, a slight smirk on his face. Shaking your head in disbelief, you drop onto your couch, shocked that he got to meet and fight beside Captain America. It's not what you expected to hear when you got home from work half an hours ago. Sam grins at your expression for a moment before a knock at the door startles both of you. You snicker slightly and he joins in as he walks over to the door to collect and pay for your takeout. Within moments, he's returned, carrying the wonder that is the pizza you ordered.

He places it on the coffee table, dropping down beside you as you take the warm box, flipping it open and smiling through your disbelief at the smell of the food. You grab a slice of pizza and proceed to stuff it into your mouth, allowing a moment of delight before you turn to him. He's also started eating, though when he catches you looking he rolls his eyes playfully, knowing he's about to answer a lot of questions.

"So, let's get this straight. Captain America, as in, war hero, recruited you and the Black Widow to take down an assassin who turned out to be his best friend? You?" you cry. 

"Actually, I call him Steve."

It's the only thing he says and you can see the smugness on his face when your jaw drops once again. He snickers at this, prompting you to whack him on the arm as you stare. You slowly take another bite of your food, exhaling a deep breath in shock before shaking your head.

"You're lying."

"Am I?" he asks innocently.

"Are you?" you question desperately after a moment.

Laughing, he shakes his head, that adorable smile of his one his face, making you grin depite yourself. You groan, annoyed Sam got to meet Captain America, Bucky Barnes and Black Widow in person. Not to mention taking down an infiltrated government facility. 

"Jealous?" he grins, eyes twinkling mischievously. 

"Yeah," you sigh.

He kisses your temple, lacing his fingers with yours and squeezing your hand. Leaning your head on his shoulder, you take another bite of your food, wishing you'd been there. 

"I'll introduce you sometime," he says.

Leaning your head back slightly, you grin up at him, pressing your lips to his as he snickers. Sticking your tongue out at him, you smirk, taking another bite of your food before settling back into the couch. 

"Sounds good. But next time, can I please kick assassin ass with you?" you ask.

"Sure, you got any hidden super powers?" he teases.

"Yeah. In case you haven't noticed, I can fly."

"Oh, really?" he grins disbelievingly.

"Yep. If you carry me. Please let me come flying with you," you nearly beg. 

He rolls his eyes, standing and stealing a slice of your food before grabbing the now empty bags. After a moment, he gestures for you to take the other one, which you reluctantly do, and follow him through to the kitchen. 

"I'm not taking you flying with me. What if I drop you? In case you haven't noticed, I'd be single and undoubtedly alone forever," he says.

Laughing, you place the empty bag on the counter, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. Still, he doesn't move from his defiant stance and you give him an exaggerated sigh. He smiles, wrapping his strong arms around your middle as you lean on the counter, looking out the window at the city beyond. You lean back into him, grinning when he places his head next to yours.

"Love you, Sam," you says quietly.

"Love you too, (Y/N)."


	9. If I say (Mumford & Sons) Bucky Barnes

Your fingers mindlessly comb through Bucky's hair, brushing out the tangles. He's sat on the floor in front of you, back against the couch and eyes focussed on the TV where 'Greatest Showman' is playing. It originally started as you two just watching a movie, but nearly forty minutes in, you're both in this position, yet neither of you say a word, despite it not being your plan when you started. A fires crackling in the fireplace underneath the television, warming the room and casting an orange glow in the otherwise darkness. The faint smell of smoke fills the room, a blanket covering your feet even though the flames are enough.

It's strangely comforting just lounging there, brushing Bucky's hair as the rest of the Avengers bustle about in their own personal apartments above you. When Tony Stark invited the both of you to move in, it had been a shock, but you'd grown used to Steve coming down to see you guys, and Jarvis relaying messages when people couldn't be bothered to tell you themselves. The sky outside the window is dark, the streets lit by the glow of lights below. The streets are probably crowded since it's so nice, and you can imagine all the couples out together, enjoying the night. 

"Careful there, doll," Bucky cries. 

You glance down at him, instantly apologising a hundred times when you realise you'd accidently pulled his hair. He laughs lightly, hand closing around yours as he turns around to give you a grin while you just blush in embarrassment. You manage a small smile and his own one widens.

"It's ok, (Y/N)," he insists.

"Sorry," you mumble again.

"It's alright," he says, sounding like he's about to start laughing. 

"Right."

A moment passes, and before you know it you've lost yourself staring into his warm, brown eyes. His hands are soft against yours, gently holding onto you while he gives you that charming smile of his. You can see why he was such a ladies man back in the forties. As he shuffles slightly, you feel his shoulder hit your leg and you blush again, letting out a slow breath. 

"You still there?" he asks teasingly.

"Always," you say. 

He smiles, dropping your hands and resting his head against your thigh, looking up at you adoringly. The films pretty much being ignored now, and you grin down at your boyfriend, feeling your heart all but melt just looking at him. Everything about him is perfect, the way his hair falls in gentle waves, the love in his eyes and the feeling of his muscular shoulders against your leg. You never thought anyone would ever look at you like that. 

Leaning forwards, you softly kiss his forehead, watching as his face glows with happiness. His sinks further back into the couch, pressing his lips to you leg before turning and looking back at the TV screen. Smiling, you drape your arms around his shoulder, drawing your legs onto the seat from where they were on either side of him, and leaning your head on top of his as you too focus on the movie. 

There's a muffled bang from the ceiling and you both look up, before locking eyes. Immediately, you break out laughing, and he soon follows suit, knowing you'll probably never find out what had happened on the floor above you. When the laughter has finally died down, the sound of the movie is the only sound filling the room. You smile lightly, lifting your head a fraction. 

"I love you, Bucky," you say quietly.

"I love you too, doll."

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Hey guys! This chapter was written for Mrs. Barnes. Hope this was alright. See ya'll next time. :)


	10. This Is Home (Cavetown) Steve Rogers

Steve's hand pulls you along the empty streets and you run after, grinning, like two lovestruck teenagers. The streetlights spotlight over you as you chase after him, sky above slowly raging from light to dark blue. It's not dark, yet, but the evening light is gradually fading, hence the needs for the streetlamps. His hand is slightly rough, the texture of skin that's seen horrors you can't imagine, yet your soldier drags you carefully along the sidewalk, occasionally straying onto the road since there's not a car in sight.

You can tell he's excited about whatever he's wanting to show you as you sprint down the road, giggling. The chill wind brushes your face gently, blowing your hair behind you, yet your blood is pumping from the running and the feel of his hand holding onto yours. His loose shirt ruffles slightly in the wind, a large smile on his face when he turns his head back to check on you. You return the expression, hurrying to keep up when he runs in front of you again, with child like enjoyment shining in his eyes even through the growing darkness. 

Finally, he stops in front of a large suburban house and looks at you, boyish excitement making you blush. He turns almost shy, cheeks dusting pink before leading you around the back. The muscles in his arms tense as he pulls himself onto the fence, leaning down and grabbing both your hands before pulling you up beside him. He does it with little effort, like you weigh nothing to him, and doesn't do anything more than smile at you as you hold onto the wood to keep from falling off. It's remarkably smooth beneath your hands, though you have a slight fear you might lean too far to one side and fall ungracefully back to the ground.

Steve reaches up and grips the top of the roof, lifting himself onto the smooth slope and turning back to you. He grabs your wrists, once again pulling you up beside him. The roof has tiles, but they overlap downwards, and you have no doubt they'd be comfortable enough to lie on. The super soldier blushes, taking hold of your hand again and helping you to walk over towards the edge of the roof. He waist for you to sit down before joining you, carefully sitting beside you. Your legs dangle off the side, bumping into his two floors above the ground as you let a relaxed smile sneak through. 

The streets are still empty, despite it not being that late, and the only sound you can hear is the distant chirping of birds. The cool breeze tickles your exposed neck and ankles, but you smile anyway, folding your fingers over the super soldier's. You look sideways at him to see him watching you, clearing his throat and looking away when he realises you've seen him. Giggling, you look at him through your lashes and he smiles shyly, squeezing your hand all the same. His grip is strong and gentle, and his clear blue eyes gaze at you lovingly from the roof beside you.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you turn your gaze upwards, gasping quietly. The sky has darkened to a deep blue, the clouds hazy and scattered with dark pinks and purples, stars glimmering in between them. A couple of other colours mix along the horizon, ocean greens and lighter blues, but you focus on the stars. They blink down at you like distant lights and sparkle in the dark sky. It's a sight that you know will stay with you forever. 

You look back at Steve, his face glowing a light blue beside you, bathed in moonlight. His hand tightens around yours and you feel the heat rise in your cheeks as he gazes at you. His eyes flicker up and you see him smile before he looks back at you. For the first time since you got to that rooftop, he speaks, words quiet and barely audible, but you'll never forget them or the way your heart speeds up when you hear them.

"I love you."

You lean forwards, watching briefly as he flushes, before your eyes flutter shut and you press your lips to his. It's a gentle kiss and he's a tad inexperienced, but undeniably perfect. You feel his hand gently caress your waist, unsure and gentlemanly, and you lean further into him. When you pull backwards, your panting slightly but fully content to stay like that for the rest of your life. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Made for KarmaStark. Hope you enjoyed. :)


	11. You are so beautiful (Dark Cinematic Cover) Natasha Romanoff

The smell of burning candles makes your living room seem nicer than it is, their faint orange glows wavering in the soft wind coming through the window. You watch as a flame flickers gently, rocking with a gold glow that dances when you giggle quietly. Outside the window is dark; the stars can't be seen from in the city, but the light of a thousand other windows, the room's lights and your billion candles make the room glow softly. 

You run your hands along the floor you're sat on, soft carpet brushing your hands. Your eyes are closed, and you're simply just listening to the sound of cars five stories below your apartment, driving through the streets. To all those people, it was just another day, but to you, it was something more. They'd all, mostly, been able to move on from that life changing event, but for you, it was impossible. 

Sighing, you take a breath before standing and walking over to the window, sliding it shut to stop the breeze from blowing out the candles you spent a good twenty minutes setting up. Your shoes are discarded not far away since you didn't bother moving them when you got back, instantly going to prepare the candles. You don't care if you'd already been out, you want this to be perfect. Whatever that means now. You know Natasha, so the scene is without a doubt perfect. Against the windowsill, your fingers twiddle, staring outside and biting your lip, hoping it will be ok.

There's a moment before you turn around, closing your eyes for a moment before your fingers find the light switch. Flicking it off, you open your eyes and stare at the room, candles casting golden glows through the dark. It's everything you could have hoped. The room's warm, a comfortable air wafting through the room as you swallow the lump in your throat, forcing your legs to carry you towards the couch.

It's been a year since the snap, and she had the official memorial remembrance earlier, but you know she would have liked for you to celebrate her like this. Just you and her, the soft glow of candles highlighting her skin as she smiles and brushes hair off your face. You let the fantasy hold onto you for a moment before you look at the couch, seeing the leather jacket laying over the back of it. Your throat constricts and you feel tears well in your eyes as you stare down at it, remembering how she used to wear it all the time. 

Natasha might have died a year ago sacrificing her life to save the universe, but, as sad as it makes you, she'll never really be gone. Not to you, at least.


	12. Fly me to the moon (Annapantsu) Thor

The snow covers the ground delicately, drifting to the ground and slowly building higher. A cool chill keeps through your coat and you huddle it closer to you, breath fogging in the air before your eyes. Your hair is soaked and hanging damply at your shoulders, clothes in no better condition as the skin beneath them is frozen and shivering. The snow, however beautifully it sparkles in the sun and paints the perfect scene, is freezing, and you'd much rather be huddled up inside since you've all but lost feeling in your fingers. It's almost worth it, though, to see Thor's face.

He's grinning in childlike excitement, watching the snowfall, entranced, with the largest smile you've ever seen. It occurs to you that Asgard must not have the particular weather, and you decide you can brave the cold just a little longer to see him like that. Besides, he does look pretty cute. Snowflakes cover his short, blond hair in fluffy white and he's bundled up in warm clothes that, however padded for warmth, somehow still manage to show his muscles. But that glint in his eyes is something you would rather focus on, just now. Your breath fogs as you sigh quietly, realising you're falling for him. 

A few people whisper as they see him, giggling and winking in his direction, but the poor, innocent man just smiles and waves back, completely mistaking their attentions. It doesn't bother you too much, though, as every other second he'll glance over and hunch his shoulders up, bright grin widening as he sees you covered in snow. And every time he does it, you find yourself forgiving him for dragging you out of bed to look at snow in the park, hence the number of admirers. You catch sight of a hot chocolate vendor and you mutter a quick and relieved 'thanks' to whatever blessing has been sent from above.

"Come on, babe," you cry.

"Awesome. Where are we going?" he asked happily.

"To get a drink," you reply, smiling at him through the snow.

He nods, perhaps more excited than you, and you entwine your fingers with his, all but pulling his through the park. A few people look at you as you pass, but you ignore them, focussing on your target. The feel of Thor's muscular, yet gentle hand holding onto yours is definitely not distracting from your goal. Definitely...

"What can I get for ya', miss?" the vendor asks.

"Two hot chocolates, please," you reply, handing over the money.

"Have a nice day," he smiles.

"Thanks," you say.

"Yes, thank you for your service, good sir," Thor nods his head.

Giggling, you hand him his drink taking yours while still holding his hand. The warmth spreads through your fingers instantly, thankfully bringing back feeling in them as the two of you meander across snow covered park, weaving in and out of people. He's still looking around in wonder, actually going as far as laughing as he watches the snow fall and land. It's a sweet sound that cuts through that of chatter and the wind, bringing your own smile to your face. 

"Do you see this? I can't believe Midgard has had this, this whole time," he laughs disbelievingly, looking at you in excited shock.

"Yeah, it's pretty great," you chuckle.

He sighs contently, looking towards the sky but blinking furiously when snow lands in his eyes. That man... Still, the way the specks fall from the heavens, glittering in the sunlight before they land is pretty incredible. You take a sip of your drink, appreciating the way it burns down your throat, warming you up from the inside. That and the wonderful taste of chocolate. 

Since it's not as busy as it is most days (probably because it's so cold), the two of you are able to walk around most of the park. By the time your drinks are empty, you've managed to deposit them in a bin, turning to talking as you're no longer occupied with drinking. Thor's still gazing around and the snow, the same wonder on his face, though he is at least engaging in conversation. He goes about two minutes before, once again, bringing up how amazing the weather is. You begin to wonder wether or not he can actually feel cold, since the effects of the warm drink are beginning to wear off. 

Standing still for longer than a second instantly freezes your legs, and you doubt you'll ever be able to move again. You can feel the snow falling on top of you, vision clouded with the snowfall, though you can see Thor beside you. He turns to look down at you, flashing a bright grin and chuckling slightly, brushing snow from your hair. Pointless, but sweet. His hand trails down your cheek and you notice him watching you intently. 

You can't help but smile, wrapping your arms around his waist as you take a step closer to him. He grins again, slowly leaning down and gently touching his lips to yours. The snow had never been so perfect.


	13. All I ask of you (Josh Groban and and Kelly Clarkson) Loki

You've been here for around two months now, not that you're exactly sure where here actually is. It seems to be some sort of abandoned factory, though the thought of it being some type of government base isn't so absurd. The corridors are winding and, at first, had you hopelessly lost, and the rooms used most for other things are full to the brim of scientists and unnaturally blue eyed people, all scrambling to fulfil his plan. Then there's that weird, magic blue cube thing that they all seem to be working on. You have the vague knowledge that it's going to help destroy the world, or whatever, but that's about all you know. 

The rooms smell of cleaning products, and there's no heating since no one seems to care about staying warm. The cold winds of winter sweep the halls, and you realise fall is over. Apart from you, of course. He decided to leave you with your free will, simply just ordering you around to do his bidding. It's annoying, sure, but after so many weeks, you've gotten used to it. Besides, not that you'd ever admit it, but you like to see those emerald eyes, shining with so much light, turn to look at you, or see that smirk curl on his lips as he scans the room. 

If you'd have heard that a mythical god would one day capture you and force you to work for him, you'd probably have questioned their sanity. Now, however, the idea is one you live by, following Loki's orders as you worked the glorifying job of cooking and delivering him his food. It's funny that he trusts 'a simple mortal' with his meals. You imagine the way his silky voice simpers your name; it should be illegal for him to use that charming, formal drawl, but when has the law stopped him? Truthfully, you're not sure why you're helping him. Surely, he isn't more important that humanity. Right?

Your hands clutch the tray full of steaming food (a large portion of roast chicken) as you travel the corridors towards his room, a path you know well. The smell of the meal is tempting, but you force yourself to stare straight ahead until you reach his door and knock with your foot. After a moment, the door opens and Loki stands there, towering over you as always, a pleased smirk on his impossibly attractive face. You find yourself blushing a little, though you clear your throat, stepping into the room and feeling his gaze on the back of your neck. 

As you place the tray on the table, you hear the door snap shut and your head darts up to see him slowly walking over to you. His eyes stay fixed on you as he sits, making you look at the ground instead, feeling a pang in your heart. When you finally look up again, he is eating, though every now and then he'll glance up and either smirk or frown thoughtfully. It's disconcerting, to say the least. Still, awkward as it is, you relish the time where you can stand in front of him without him yelling orders at you. His silence is sophisticated, like nothing you've ever encountered, and the long looks and fleeting glances he gives are worth every time you've wished to be free. 

His knife clatters to the plate and he stands, his expression suddenly furious. You take a couple of steps back in surprise, but he just glowers over at you, teeth clenched in an anger you've never seen before. Without warning, he stomps over to you, backing you against the wall as he grips your arm so tight you feel that it might be broken. Before you can say anything, he raises his hand like he's going to hit you. But then he stops.

He stops, letting you go as he turns around, gripping his hair and letting out a sort of quiet scream. You don't have time to even think about his mood swing as he spins back towards you a second later, raven hair flying around his shoulders. His glare is frightening, but you ball your hands into fists, ignoring your fear.

"What do you want?" he all but screams.

You pause, furrowing your brow in confusion as you watch him snarl at you. He's clearly angry, but you honestly have no idea why, since you're pretty sure you haven't said anything to provoke this mood switch. Not hearing an answer, he takes a menacing step towards you, prompting you to raise your hands in front of your face.

"Loki, what the hell are you on about?" you cry.

His shoulder sag, his expression suddenly upset and he looks as if he's about to cry. You watch in confusion as he turns again and walks away, sitting down with his back to you. A strangled yell escapes his throat as he burries his head in his hands, shoulders heaving up and down. You take a tentative step forwards, continuing on when he doesn't move to stop you. His pain, his fear, is tangible, and you feel your throat constrict as the heaviness of it threatens to overwhelm you.

"Loki?" you ask quietly.

You're almost right behind him when he stands up, slowly turning to look at you, exhaustion all over his face. Staring up at him, you see him sigh, eyes desperately searching your face. His gaze is simple, and you're mostly certain he's not going to shout at you again, but your hair rises on the back of your neck for entirely different reasons as his shinning green eyes irresistibly look back at you. 

"Who sent you?" he questions, voice soft, but there's still that slight hostility.

"No one," you reply, but he doesn't seem to hear you, growing angry again.

"Who sent you here to taunt me?" he snarls. "What do you want?"

Here, his voice is gentle and desperate, his emotional face forming a confused and despairing frown. You feel your chest sting in phantom pain as you recall past memories. You've never been good at romance and any help from movies or media is welcome. Looking up, you lock eyes with him, feeling your eyes sting with sudden, unwanted tears. You want to go home, to be far away from this man, who kidnapped you and forced you to work for him. You want him to wrap his arms around you and never let you leave. You want him to be your safety, your light. The possibility that this is Stockholm Syndrome is a real one, but it feels like something so much more than that.

"I want you to share share each day with me, each night, each morning," you say. 

For a moment, he freezes, eyes widening slightly as your heats bur in embarrassment. But then he gives a relieved huff of breath, his lips twitching into what could be a smile, though it's gone as soon as it appeared. You're not sure how long you stand there, staring into his eyes, until you feel something in your very mind. Almost like... another presence. When you blink, the feeling's gone, but Loki's smiling softly. A real, genuine smile, not a smirk. It makes your heart flutter and your stomach flip. 

"What do you want?" you ask, hating not knowing his intentions. 

"Be the first to give your heart to me. Love me," he says, voice hoarse with emotion. 

You feel your heartbeat quicken as he steps slowly closer to you, soft gaze burning with the heat of caring. It's almost too much for it to bare. He leans closer to you, lips fluttering near yours, so tauntingly close, and before he kisses you, he smirks slightly, his voice soft as he whispers. 

"That's all I ask of you."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Written for Olivia. Hope this is okay for what you requested. I enjoyed writing it, so hopefully it was fun to read. See ya'll next time. :)


	14. Dance with me tonight (Olly Murs) Wanda Maximoff

The music pounds in your ears, vibrating through the floor and assuring you that you'll most definitely have trouble hearing in the morning. It's dark, but bright, neon rainbows of light practically blind you and the sound of people shouting of the sound of the songs makes your head hurt. Tony's parties have a reputation for being like this, you really should have expected it, but you thought it would be different.

You've known him since you went to school together, a special, elite little place for the up-and-coming inventor. Tony had won every award the school offered, and although you were overshadow by his skills, Stark had always made sure you were included. That was years ago, now, and you've remained fast friends. For the life of you, though, you don't know why you came to this party. 

You grip the glass in your hand a little harder, looking around and squinting for any sight of Tony. Nope, he ditched you for a dance with Pepper. Shaking your head, you take a small sip, wincing when the liquid burns your throat and a couple dance a little too close. It's chaos: sweat sticks your clothes to your back from the dancing you'd done earlier and your hair's a mess. Not to mention the smell of alcohol and sweat that lingerings all through the dark, noisy room wherever you go. You're never coming to any of Tony's parties ever again. 

The sound of your glass hitting the table isn't even audible since the music is so loud. How does Tony do this every weekend? So far it's been noise, discomfort and boredom. Then again, you're not Tony Stark. 

When you walk over to the snack table, you have to weave between a number of people, and there's already a woman eating the plate of brownies. She has dark red hair and pretty, light blue eyes. She gives you a smile as you take a handful of food that you return, accompanied by a flinch as the present song's beat drops and people scream. You lean back against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment and wishing you could go home without being rude. Knowing Tony, he'd probably tell you it was too early to be leaving. 

"Are Stark's parties always... like this?" the woman asks in a smooth Russian accent. 

"Yeah, I don't normally come."

You have to shout to answer her, even though she's stood right next to you, and your throat stings from yelling. She smiles a little and nods, her face flashing a dozen different colours in the lights. You can't make out many of her features, but she'd undoubtedly gorgeous, dressed in a short, black dress with slits down her legs up to her thighs and a somewhat nervous look on her face. The song changes again and you put your plate down on the table, sudden nerves making you doubt yourself. She smiles at you knowingly, looking a little nervous. 

"Wanna dance?"

For a moment, you're not sure what to say, but then you grins and nod, and she's grabbing your hand and pulling you through the throng of people. You're a little nervous since she's dragged you right to the middle of the room, but you watch the way she dances -a little awkwardly- and smile, joining in. The sound of her laugh is quiet, mostly because of how loud the music is here, but it makes you smile. She grabs your hand, her skin smooth and gentle, holding onto your fingers with just the right amount of pressure, and spins you around.

Your heartbeat speeds up at her touch and you dare to step a little closer, still holding onto her hand as you both spin and shake. It's so fun you almost forget there's even anyone else there. Her hair brushes your shoulder and her leg bumps against yours, bringing goosebumps to your skin. Sweat trickles down your back and you can feel her palm sticking to yours, lights flashing across her features, but you can hardly care about how warm you feel with the still unnamed woman dancing with you.

Your heart almost stops when her hand cautiously caresses your waist, pulling you closer to her. You can see her smoky makeup and dark red lips, the way her eyes glance at you nervously, but still with so much fire. So close that there's barely an inch between you. You wrap your arms around her and she smiles, reciprocating with a grin and a blush that's only lit up by the lights for a second. You want to see it again. Her joy makes you smile.

Despite the liveliness of the song, time feels slow, your pulse fast, her dancing sexy and smooth, hesitantly pulling you in. You let it. Her lips brush yours and your breath catches, not noticing anyone else. She looks a little more nervous now, but she's intoxicating, pulling you forwards. You're so close, your clothes brush hers and there's not even an inch between your hips. Leaning in, you catch her lips in a kiss and time rushes back all at once, bringing a crashing wave of sound, smell and heat, making even your insides burn.

One of her hands leaves your waist and tangles in your hair, pulling you closer and you hold onto her, stumbling a little as someone crashes into you. She catches you, though, tilting your head to kiss you again, ignoring the crowds and noise. You sway to the music a little as she pulls back, your body practically trembling. She smiles and you do the same, feeling her hand slowly, hesitantly running over your curves. 

"Wanda. My name's Wanda," she shouts.

"(Y/N)!"

You both grin. 

"I like that name." 

As the song changes, she pulls you back towards her, crashing your lips back to hers. 

\------------------------------------

A few months later

Wanda wraps her arms around you from behind, making you smile. Steve, or Captain America, as he's known to the rest of the world, looks a little awkward but smile anyway, taking a sip of his coffee. The kitchen in the Avengers tower is clean and modern, just like everything Tony owns, other than his lab. Your girlfriend grabs her own mug, still with her arms embracing you, and takes a sip, placing it on the island in front of you. 

There's a blue of blue and silver and her white haired, speedster brother appears in front of you both, pretending to gag at the sight. Wanda frowns a little but you laugh, throwing a piece of paper at him that he easily dodges. Her laugh makes your stomach flip. Steve smiles at the display, clapping Pietro on the back, the man in questions grinning.

"Do you have to be so gross?" he asks in his thick accent.

"You're just mad because you can't get a girlfriend," she teases.

He mumbles something in Sokovian and she gasps. You can't help but smile at their little exchange, finding the innocence and playfulness of your girlfriend adorable and endearing. Wanda is perfect, in every way. The feel of her arms wrapped around your midsection, the chaste kiss she places on your cheek to annoy Pietro. Even the way she uses her powers to lift him off the ground to keep him from running away. His curses, her soft laughs. It strikes you that you love her.

Spinning around, you kiss her, and she's so surprised by the sudden action that she drops her brother on the ground. Steve splutters, embarrassed, but you ignore him, your fingers in her hair as her soft lips move against yours and her hands hold onto you. When you pull back, she smiles softly, blushing at the public affection.

"What was that for?"

"I love you."

It leaves your lips before you can stop it and her face freezes, the smile slipping from yours as the gravity of what you've said hits. Pietro mumbles something, but you can't hear him, staring at your girlfriend -if she still wants you after that. To your surprise, she kisses you again, smiling shyly and making you do the same, cheeks burning.

"I love you too."

Even the way she says it is perfect. 

\----------------------------------------

Written for Fantasie Faerie. Hope this is ok and what you wanted. :) This was fun to write so hopefully you guys enjoyed it. 'Till next time.


	15. U and Us (Quinn XCII) Scott Lang

You're not quite sure why you of all people were invited to an Avengers party, seeing as you're not the most social. Being an Avenger, it was expected that you'd be here, but most of the time you turn Tony down. Parties aren't really your thing, too much loud noise and there's too much attention on you. But, as you look around at the group gathered on one of Tony's couches, you wonder if you're actually missing out.

It's only the Avengers there, with the addition of Pepper Potts and Tony's friend Happy. There's a sweat smell in the air from the popcorn Clint made and has put on the table, and the spacey room is full of light chatter. You're glad you didn't dress up too much. No one's really paying you any attention, save for Scott who keeps glancing at you from across the room. You pretend you don't notice, quite frankly uncomfortable with the way he's looking at you. The party's not bad, but you'd rather not have any attention on yourself. 

Despite being a 'superhero' you're not really close with anyone on your team. You get along fine with Sam and Steve, though they're both a little extroverted for you. Natasha is give scary, and Wanda doesn't seem to be in the market for friends. Tony... well, he can stay were he is on the other side of the room. 

You take a sip from your drink, even if it is only to act like you're not just sat here, doing nothing. How creepy would it be to just sit and watch, anyway? That's your plan, until there's a dip on the couch and Scott's suddenly sat right next to you. Great, now you have to actually talk to someone. There's a slight rush of fear that starts in your abdomen, but you try not to take notice of either it, or Lang. 

"To the Avengers!"

Tony yells his toast, and there's a roar of laughter as people raise their respective drinks. You do the same, though only smiling a little as opposed to screaming at the top of your lungs. You don't object as Scott clinks his glass against yours, shuffling back in your seat as you nervously watch the team. You've served together on the battlefield, but talking to any of them in a normal settings just makes you insides crawl with nerves. 

"Yeah, I don't really know why Stark invited me, either."

You turn your head a little as Thor shouts this time, glancing at Scott who's watching with a slight wince. He grins when he looks away from them and at you, though, his eyes lit up as you smile a little. You wonder how obvious your discomfort is if he can tell. 

"I'm just.. not sure what to say," you mumble.

For a moment, you worry he will scoff and move away, but instead he nods enthusiastically, like he knows exactly what you mean. It gives you butterflies. 

"They're loud," he states the obvious, and you can't help but giggle. "Does laughing at me count as abuse? I'm going to file a complaint."

"Sorry," you chuckle, unable to stop.

He doesn't seem to mind, though, as he's grinning still and snickers a little. 

"Why are you here then, if they're loud. If you don't mind me asking," you ask. 

"I'm having the night away from my daughter," he seems almost nervous to tell you, but you shrug it off.

"How old is she?"

"Six," he says.

You like the way he practically glows talking about her, the radiance in his expression something you've never really seen. There's another cheer, and you draw back a little, unable to help the discomfort being in such a large group fills you with. Once more, you worry Scott's going to leave when he notices, but he doesn't, and it's incredible. 

"You want to go somewhere more, well, quiet?" he asks cheekily.

"Alright."

He puts his drink on the table and you follow suit, standing with him and walking towards the door. Tony yells some catcall after you, and you feel your face burn. Having that amount of attention on you makes you uncomfortable, and it doesn't help that nothing Stark just said is appropriate. Scott just shakes his head, seeming exasperated, but not surprised. You're not sure how Scott knows his way around so well, but maybe he's just visited more than you have. 

Either way, you can't complain as he stops on a balcony that overlooks the compound. It's beautiful, with a view that reaches until just before the city buildings. It's a shame Tony claimed the place as 'his' since you would have liked to do the same. It's dark out, but you can see the lights peppering the distance, and the trees, creepy to some, look almost magical. It's cold, but you don't really mind. 

"Wow... It's really nice out here," you say almost breathless, shocked by the allure of such a simple view.

"I know. It's, uh, peaceful."

He rubs the back of his neck, and you forget for a moment that you don't know Scott Lang, because the way he looks when he blushes is adorable. You're stomach's doing flips as you look at him, turning to gaze out at the horizon when he turns his head. You know you're blushing, but maybe, if you ignore it, he won't notice. It's a long shot.

"You should come to more of Stark's parties. I'd, well, I'd- what I mean to say is- I'd like to see more of you."

You can feel your entire body burning, and despite the embarrassment, you can only give him a giddy grin that is thoroughly awkward. He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair, deliberately not looking at you. 

"Yeah, I'd like to see more of you as well."

There's nerves in your voices, but you're surprised how you don't sound like you're about to pass out. Scott beams at you, his hands shaking a little as he presses his palm against yours. You're unsure how you're still standing as you fold your fingers over his, shuffling a little closer as the wind picks up. Your hearts hitting against your ribs so fast it's uncomfortable, Scott's touch sending lightning up your arm. You turn your head just as he's about to say something, and you freeze as your lips meet.

It's undeniably awkward, but after a second you close your eyes and he moves a fraction closer. Everything in your mind is short circuiting, and you're hyper aware of how his hand feels against yours, the way his lips move with you. You like how he puts a hand on your waist and how his hair feels when you hesitantly loop your fingers through it. He moves back after what seems like hours and is still too short, and you blush furiously as he smiles cutely at you, his own cheeks red. 

"I'd definitely like to see more of you."

"I guess that means you're not filing a complaint against me?" 

He laughs and you can't help but join in, your voice giddy and your body shaking with jitters. But you don't mind, because Scott's still stood close and the warmth of his hands is making every other part of your skin jealous.

"I guess not."

\-----------------------------------

Hi! I finally updated! Written for PerfectMistake1108. Really hope you enjoyed it and I'm sorry it took so long. Hopefully the next one will be out soon. :)


	16. Ghost Of Mine (Kailee Morgue)/Everything I wanted (Billie Eilish) Bucky Barnes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Self harm/suicidal themes

You drum your fingers on the glass desk before you, rolling your head to glance at the clock. It's wrong to count down the minutes until your patient arrives, you know this, but there's a burst of nerves in your chest every time you think of him walking through the door anyway. It wasn't a problem, not at first. In fact, you didn't really admit to yourself that it was an issue until a few minutes ago. 

You were meant to be listening, to be helping, but all through your last session all you'd be doing was looking at the slow, impossibly slow, time. Waiting for him. You could imagine the way he'd be clutching something to his chest (his bag, a notebook, maybe even his cat) shoulders raised ever so slightly and a nervous, friendly look on his face as he'd greet you. Just that smile would make you unable to function. He made it hard to do your job. Not just by having to resist telling him how you feel, but by distracting you from your other patients.

It burns, the thought of being trapped in silence, but you can't risk the job you've worked for, for years because of one man. Even if your fingers tingle with the want to run through his hair, to touch him... You don't know how long you can take it. Possibly the worst part is knowing whether or not he feels the same. Sometimes when you look at him, you can almost see your want for him mirrored back at you, but it's probably just wishful thinking. 

The seconds go by sluggishly, an eternity since your last patient left, but at this rate it'll be years before he arrives. You regret allocating twenty minutes between sessions, even if you did need the time to clean up most days. Wednesdays were torture, though, waiting for him. On any other day, you could browse your phone or run downstairs to get a coffee from the good machine, the only one the clinic has, problematically on the ground floor. Not on Wednesdays, though, when your legs shake and your heart misses with every step. 

You take to looking out the window, out at the gardens. They're actually quite nice, though so is the rest of the building. He told you about how much friendlier it was than he expected in his fourth session. You like taking your patients outside for walks, fresh air for both of you. It's better, in your opinion, than being stuck in an office. You don't have to be looking at each other that way, and you've found that a good atmosphere can really get someone to open up.

There's a knock on the door and you know at once who it is. He's early, again, and his knocks are quick, one after the other, the sound rising like his hand is moving upwards as he lets you know he's there. The door's pushed open a second later, and he gives you take shy smile that makes you dizzy as he steps inside. You immediately notice the ball of white fluff clutched to his chest, his metal arm holding it as he flesh arm grips as notebook. He looks tired, but you smile anyway, wishing you could look away as he sits down opposite you. 

You're horrified that you're breaking every rule of your job like this, but you can't help the fantasies that cross your mind as he shifts in his chair, pushing his notebook across the table to you. You think about what it would feel like to have his metal hand on your skin, his hair brushing against your ear as he kisses you, the drag of his teeth on your lip. He doesn't notice, he never does, simply scratching his head and stroking the Ragdoll Cat on his lap. Chloe purs loudly and you can't help the heat that rushes to your face. 

For the first time, you notice how tired he looks, the way he avoids looking at you. It hurts, but you're more annoyed with yourself for being so consumed in your crush that you didn't put your job, you patient, first. The notebook is coarse under your fingers, having suffered many rainstorms and coffee spills. Bucky told you about them, of course, embarrassed to be so clumsy with something so important, but you've always told him it's alright. 

He looks up, just for a moment, and your breath catches when you see how sad his eyes are. You pick the notebook up, pausing before opening it. 

"You can read it," he says glumly, looking anywhere but at you. "It's... just a dream I had. It's not really important, I just thought..."

"James," you say his name just like they taught you at school, with a tone that makes him look at you, softening your voice now. "If it upset you, if it's real to you, it's important. You're emotions are important."

You mean it when you tell all your patients this, but there's a different desperation here, a need for Bucky to know his fears, his thoughts, are valid. The reserve in his expression makes your chest pang, and he almost seems like he wants to snatch the book back. But you've opened it to the right page now, and you're reader his surprisingly neat handwriting detailing his feelings, his actions from the last week. He's playing with Chloe as you read his most intimate emotions and ideas, his inspirations, his disappointments. You want to be with him when he feels like this.

His dream details his memories from the War, and with all the PTSD he has, you're surprised it isn't a more common topic. He must see something on your expression, because he seems to know where you are, hand pausing from petting Chloe and eyes scanning your face. You don't look at him though, reading about how fighting for the good-guys turns into HYDRA torturing him. There's gaps in the writing where he clearly can't remember part of the dream, but it, unfortunately, doesn't hinder how clear the dream is. 

It's an uncomfortable read, and when you reach the end, your chest tightens and you bite your lip. It's not hard to imagine the man sat across from you waking up in the early morning, breathing heavily and sweating with the nightmare of being forced to kill his friends fresh on his brain. You've read about his feelings before, the way he doubts himself and blames himself for what he was forced to do.

This is different, though. It may be your feelings, but you're certain any therapist would wish to do anything to help him. Reading about how he woke up wanting to die makes you have to swallow hard. The writing's a little more uneven here, where he's written about how he felt worthless, like no one would care if he ran into the woods behind the Avengers' Compound with a gun and never came back. There's a blood stain on the corner of the page, and you know where it's from when you read about how he cut himself. 

Finally but not soon enough, you place his notebook down at look up at him. He's looking off to the side, throat bobbing as he seems to be fighting the urge to cry. You're unsure what to say. Your eyes are automatically drawn to his arm, where, if you look close enough, you can see the outline of a bandage under his shirt. 

"Did you tell Steve?" you ask quietly. 

It takes him a moment. 

"He-" his voice breaks and you see a tear fall before he continues. "I told him about the dream. He.. he said he understands, but he doesn't. I couldn't tell him about the- about anything else. Stark turned up, as well, but all he can see is me.. his parents.... he thinks I'm a monster."

He's openly crying now, face hidden behind hair and his hand, the metal arm holding his cat like she's the only thing tethering him to reality. You can't stop yourself from standing. You know it's wrong as you go around the desk and wrap your arms gently around his shoulders, letting his head rest against your stomach. You don't shush him, don't tell him it'll all be alright, you just let him cry like you doubt he's done in anyone else's presence in a long time. 

"If Tony thinks something as narrow-minded and foolish as that, then he doesn't deserve to give you his opinion. You're not to blame for anything HYDRA made you do, and you don't need to feel bad because of them. And you're not a let-down, James. You're strong, and a good friend. You survived HYDRA, you can get past this too," you can feel yourself crying, but even as your voice cracks you don't let yourself stop. "Please don't give up." 

You close your eyes for a moment, running your fingers through his hair as you silently ask him to follow your breathing patterns, rules be dammed. He needed you. It takes a little while for his shoulders to stop shaking, though he doesn't pull away from you when his sobs cease. Is it your imagination or does he move closer? When he speaks, his voices is a little muffled, and thick with tears.

"Thank you."

He says your name then, and it's Heaven. You hold onto him a little tighter, careful to mind the top of his arm where his injury is. It's wrong to hope, wrong to dream, and even though it's at the back of your mind, this means something to you. Maybe, just maybe, it means something to him to. 

\----------------------------------------

Hi. This one was written for PerfectMistake1108 and Tia. I know it probably wasn't what you asked for but I got into it and couldn't stop myself. Hope you enjoyed anyway. 

On another note, I've copied these stories over from Quotev.com, so if anyone wants to request smut, it will be here instead of there. This is my first time doing anything like this, though, so if it's terrible I'm sorry. I'll see you all next time. Have a good day/night. :)


	17. Peter Parker x OC

The pounding of the music makes my legs shake, thrumming in my ears until it's all I can hear. My heart beats fast in my chest, sweat running down my back as I move my hips back and forth, running my tongue over my top lip. I can see the crowd watching me with rapt interest as I dance, Flash's friends the lot of them, their girlfriends stood at the back rolling their eyes. Flash is right at the front, eyes locked on my body and an obnoxious smirk on his face. 

It almost makes me want to leave. His house is full of people, hot and sweaty and smelling of alcohol he raided from his dad's private supply. It's not my scene, much as I like the attention, and I wouldn't be here if he wasn't paying so much. Still, closing my eyes and swaying and grinding like I'm the only on there is a good distraction. At least MJ is here. She's jumping around embarrassingly in the corner, winking and pointing. It's good to have a friend here. 

There's a collective wave of shouts as the song ends and I stand back up, starting to step down from the makeshift stage. It's just a couple of tables pushed together, not exactly the professional equipment Flash had promised when he ambushed me in the corridor at school and offered me this job. I wink at the boys as I push through the crowd, shaking off their attempts to get me to stay behind. I don't bother addressing them properly, rather just telling them empty promises that I'll meet them later. I'm pretty sure I'm clear before Flash is stood in front of me, leaning on the door frame and blocking my exit.

"Good show, Sugar. How about a private one later?" 

He sounds hopeful, and I think he's trying to be seductive, giving me a lazy smirk that's probably had half the school weak at the knees. Still, I'm tired from being the driving force of his party for the past three hours. I cross my arms, rolling my eyes and looking at him from under my lashes. He gulps, and I can't help but grin for a second before rolling my shoulders. 

"I told you, I ain't here for that tonight," I say. "Maybe next time? I can show you what I do when I'm not so tired. Give you my full... attention." 

He looks visibly nervous now, swallowing hard and nodding a little too eagerly. I'm not really that interested, but seeing reactions like his are always a good boost for my confidence. Besides, I don't really want to piss off the guy who's paying me. His eyes catch on something over my shoulder, and he glances at me only once more before standing up straight and snickering. I turn, following his gaze through the crowd to two newcomers. 

I draw my eyes over both of them, the cute, nervous looking one and his awed friend. They're oblivious to our attentions, approaching with their eyes scanning over the people beside them. Until Flash claps loudly. A few people glance over, but their looks don't last long. 

"Look who it is. You bring your pal Spiderman with you this time, Parker?" he laughs. 

"I, uh..."

The newcomer looks awkward under Flash's questioning, turning to look back at his friend who's open mouthed, eyes locked on me. Parker looks over as well, flushing dark even under the lack of light in the room. His gaze strays like he's not sure where to look, over the shorts that barely reach mid-thigh, and the tight, skinny shirt that I'm wearing. It's almost cute how his shoulders are almost around his ears and he's stuttering for words. I wink, and he freezes.

Flash slings an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer until there's barely any space between our bodies. I only look at him for a moment before returning to Parker, so unlike the other guys here with his attraction that it makes my skin tingle. 

"Shame you're so late. Missed Sugar here putting on a performance."

"Oh, I, uh. Mr Stark needed me to do something..." he trails off again, only this time I'm left staring at him curiously.

"Come on, you don't need to show off in front of Sugar. You'll embarrass yourself. She doesn't need to deal with you."

I frown, shaking his arm off my shoulders and giving him a look. He winces a little, squaring his shoulders a second later in, what I think, is an attempt to appear tough. I doesn't really work. My heels make me about three inches taller than him, and Parker is lanky but tall. 

"What I need is some fresh air," I say, turning to give the other two a sultry look. "Later, boys."

Luckily, Flash moves out the way without further prompt, letting me past and out to the garden. It's empty with everyone inside, unsurprising with how cold it is. My breath fogs in front of me as I walk into the dark, the sound of the party silencing behind me as the door shuts. I wrap my arms around my middle as I sit down on the decking, kicking my shoes off and rolling my neck. 

The overwhelming heat from a few moments ago disappears into a chill that seeps through the thin layers I'm wearing, but one glance back at the house confirms my want to remain outside. There's an ache in the muscle below my ribs, something that's probably going to really make itself known tomorrow. It's a shame Flash found my Instagram, really, since he wouldn't know of my skill otherwise. I like parties, but when all anyone's interested in is getting with you, it's kinda tiring. And this is more like a job. 

Shouting and the pulse of music makes me groan quietly, opening me mouth to tell Flash to leave as he shuts the door behind him and his footsteps gets nearer. But it's not Flash. It's Parker, eyes wide and frozen like a deer in headlights as he sees me, looking around for some sort of exit. It makes me wet suddenly dry lips, shifting and fixing my hair self-consciously. No one's ever really looked so... scared around me. 

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realise you were out here. I'll just go," he says quickly, already half way back to the door. 

"No, it's fine. You can sit, I don't bite. Well, unless you want me to."

He chuckles, a high, nervous sound that makes me huff a laugh. He's slow, sitting beside me with enough space for another person to sit - albeit uncomfortably - between us. Still, he's not openly staring, quite the opposite; he seems more interested in the dark, shadowed ground in front of him than me. And I have to admit, it's endearing. I'm surprised how easy the silence is, neither awkward or anxious. Granted, it takes a minute to get there, but once he's calmed down a little, it's actually quite nice. 

He smells like honey and cinnamon, a calm scent that washes away the earthy one of Flash's garden. It's almost a self conscious thought when I wonder what I smell like to him. Alcohol and sweat, most likely. Hardly a nice smell, especially when he smells like heaven, domestic bliss that's nothing but refreshing and relaxed. And looking at him, it's not only his smell that makes my stomach flip. 

He's all mild curls, nothing like mine, but ready to change with the wind, brown hair with gold highlights in the small amount of light coming through the door. His shirt's baggy, his posture slouched ever so slightly, but there's something intelligent about just the way he holds himself. I like the softness to his features, the kind, openness in his face that's cute but also surprisingly sexy. I've seen him before, the debate team with Flash, I realise, but I've never really had a good look at him before. 

I don't register anything other them him until he turns to look at me and I break the contact first. My body's hot, surely flushed from head to toe and burning with butterflies that make my stomach do flips. And yet, it's nothing like I've felt before. Not the usual attraction to guy I have, but something... else that's different to lust, where all I want to do is smile and stare at him forever.

I wonder what soft lips would be like on my own, how his hands would feel around me. Images of things lacking sense make me dizzy, him cuddling me to sleep, nursing me to health when I'm sick, cooking something that smells like apple pie and cinnamon. I want to feel his skin on mine, but, for the first time, I wouldn't mind taking it slower. Knowing him for more than pleasure. It would still be a factor, of course, but I want to spend time with him. 

My senses seem heightened to his breathing, his every slight movement, the warmth from his body crossing the too-large distance between us, the slam of my heart against my ribs. I look back at him, suddenly over thinking things I've never even considered about myself. 

He looks up at the same time, and I'm rushed with worry, about to look away. His gaze is hypnotic, though, magnetising, intoxicating until deep brown is all I can think about, dilated pupils in the dark swimming before my eyes. It feels like staring through the universe itself, so much depth and warmth in this shadowed part of the world. I forget to breath, to move, to think. And unless I'm crazy, drunk on his presence, he's staring at me in the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for AJ. Sorry it took so long; I struggled with this one a bit so I hope it turned out ok (fingers crossed). Sugar was really fun to write so I hope I got her personality right and that you enjoyed it. :)


	18. Team (Lorde) Tony Stark

The sounds of battle make you wince, fingers instinctively tightening on the gun in your hand. Your hair's come loose from the ponytail it was in, and now it's blowing about your face without nearly as much grace as Natasha's. Still, you forced yourself to move forwards, even as the wind hits sharply against your face and the ground slips beneath your feet. There's a pounding sting in your leg and you cry out, stumbling around even as you feel blood starting to stain your clothes. 

Your attacker is stood not so far away, and you wonder, for a moment, if he even meant to hit you. He's firing around blinding, bullets in every direction, and it's common sense for everyone to stay far away. Apart from you, of course. You limp forwards, your shoulder aching when you shoot a woman off to your side, and crouch down behind a wall, hissing at the pressure on your leg. One of your teammates shouts in the distance, but your ears are ringing and suddenly the dusty smell has blood in it. 

Fingers slide against the wall as you shuffle and peer around the corner. He's still stood on a small mound of rubble, face nothing but anger for reasons you can't begin to imagine. You're not sure if he's a civilian or your opposition, but he's dangerous, and the throbbing in your calf is incentive enough. He doesn't so much as look around when your gun goes off, your aim true, though his eyes go frantic as he searches for the one who shot him. 

There's no point watching this man die, so you turn, slipping your gun back onto your belt, and running best you can back towards the main battle. It might not be such a great idea, going to where the fighting is worst when you can barely move, but you have to help. The intercom in your ear crackles as you get closer to the rest of the time, earning a slight wince but nothing more. 

"A computer once beat me at chess, but it was no match at kickboxing."

Tony's voice, albeit staticky, makes something akin to relief flood your system, and you set your jaw before gripping a railing, counting to three, and pulling yourself over a tall pile of rubble. A glance down shows that you're gonna be passing out soon if you don't bandage your leg. Too bad you can't stop. 

"This is no time for joking, Stark," Steve says, and you can hear the sigh in his words. 

"Really? This guy likes it. Don't you?"

You raise your hand to your ear, swaying on the spot with only one hand braced against the wall. 

"Great joke, but there's more important things going on here."

"Aww, don't be like that, babe. You and Rogers are ruining my fun."

Shaking your head, you let your arm drop and reach for your gun once more now that you're in the thick if it. Natasha and Clint are fighting a little ahead of you, covered in dirt and dust, and blood that you know isn't theirs. You move to get closer to them, desperately needing cover now that you're out in the open. Your ears are ringing, heart thumping heavily in your chest, and the smell of dust and dead bodies almost makes you choke. You're pretty sure something's lodged itself into your thigh, this time, and that's definitely worse than the calf. 

Your guns out of ammo.

Everything's a blur as your leg buckles underneath you and your chin slams into the concrete, sending sharp pain through your jaw. You whimper, legs twitching where they've tried to curl up. Tony won't like what you have yo do, but no way in hell are you going to die here. Your fingers shake pulling out the Stark Industries phone your boyfriend gave the whole team, fully equipped with everything you might need. 

JARVIS is one of the first apps when you turn it on, curled up and thankful for all the dust camouflaging you from being seen and shot more. The bright blue swims in your vision, indistinguishable voices too loud in your ear, and the ground shaking under your body. Your mouth won't open to input your need, so you type, having to delete letters when your hand spasms. 

"Are you sure, Miss? Operation 'Mysteries unveiled'?"

You tap 'yes', throat swollen as you swallow down what taste suspiciously like blood. You think the others heard JARVIS as well, because there's a sudden rush of voices that you can't quite tell apart making your head hurt. Tony might be talking to you when he ask if everyone's alright, and the quickness to what could be his words might be due to your lack of reply. There's a lot of blood pooled around your leg, you can feel it, but if the opposition near you can't see it, the rest of the team won't be able to either.

There's a strange noise in the air, like wind against metal, and you manage to raise your head just in time to see an Iron Man suit flying towards you. Only, you know Tony didn't make this one. The metal's closing around your body and lifting you from the ground before you even register what's happening. You're lifted into the air, guns firing down at the men and women shooting up at you. You're pretty sure you look awesome, even though everything that's happened so far has been automated. 

The air turns cold, shocking you into opening your eyes and taking deep breaths. With the blurriness and the ringing in your ears gone, you can feel every inch of hurt on your body, from the already formed bruises to the two bullet wounds in your leg, and the cut where some sort of pole had stabbed nearly straight through your arm. You hadn't even noticed that before. The suit's doing its best to fix you up, you can feel the dried blood running down your leg and something wrapping around the wounds. You're glad Tony showed you how to do that, even if he didn't know why.

You feel sick, but you finally force your throbbing limbs to lock into place and let the suit connect to your brainwaves (Tony's invention, of course). And then the weak sun is reflecting off of silver metal as you fly back towards the ground, landing with an impact that sends those nearby flying. Your leg shakes a bit, but you grit your teeth and stand as tall as possible, letting the automatic guns take care of the people around you. You're beginning to feel the exhaustion creeping back in, and you know you need real medical help as soon as possible.

"What the hell is that?" Tony shouts.

You can hear him louder than ever, and maybe it's because the world is suddenly much more alive now that you're not bleeding so heavily. Maybe it's just because you're such a damn good engineer. Your voices sounds weak when you laugh, the sound echoing around your helmet not unpleasantly. 

"Sorry, Tones. I knew you'd say no if I told you."

"..We're having a talk when this is over."

He sounds unhappy, though you can hear the pride slipping through the cracks anyway. You make to move to cover one of the others, stopping when Tony lands in front of you. His mask doesn't lift, and neither of you can see each others faces, but you stare anyway. You stare, and you smile. And maybe, hiding behind his suit and the displeasure in his voice, Tony's smiling too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LucindaAM. I really hope you like it cause it was so much fun to write.


	19. Laughing on the outside (L0user) Natasha Romanoff

Natasha's eyes scan over the file in front of her, brows furrowed slightly and posture stiff. Fury's arms are crossed when she looks back up, his face its usual stern glare, but she ignores his quite clear displeasure to frown at him. She can see him glance down at the paper clasped between her hands for a moment before she clears her throat. Even then, she hesitates. It is, after all, not her place to question him, not after all he's done to help her.

But, well, this Armon guy seems... deranged. She didn't even know someone _could_ kill that many people; not without getting caught, at least. Destruction of property and arson were bad, but the pictures clipped onto the notes made even her wince. She knew Fury wouldn't send her after him if she couldn't handle it, she _knew_ he cared about her. She just couldn't help the shudder that travelled all too quickly, all too slowly, up her spine as the pictures in front of her merged into one block of red. 

"Is there a problem, Agent Romanoff?" he asks, voice just as sharp as his face.

Her eyes flicker down once more and her throat bobs as she swallows her nerves, turning her head up to face him. He smiles. He knows he's won. Pats her on the shoulder noncommittally as she leaves the room.

"No, Director Fury."

* * *

When Faye Lillis agreed to work for the government, she had the, perhaps unrealistic, expectation that she would be aiding in criminal investigations, or crossing international borders as a spy. Meeting the Avengers hadn't been a _real_ goal of hers. She wouldn't admit that much to herself. She thought, at the very least, she'd have received some small amount of training. In anything, really. 

Now, however, Faye's dreams of becoming some sort of femme fatale have long ago crashed into the ground and burst into flames. She sits at her desk forty hours a week and stares into space, only breaking from daydreams to fill out the occasional forms that appear in front of her and are gone seconds later. She doesn't read them, can't bring herself to read over pages of words, written in text so small looking at it makes her eyes itch. So she sits and thinks, unable to go on her phone since her boss has her working in a basement and there's no cell service. 

She almost wishes there was more work, anything to keep her occupied. She has half a mind to leave - it's not like it pays well anyway - but she knows, at the back of her mind, always there, that she needs this job to support her family. Her gracious employer knows it as well, since she told him as much in the first and only interview before she started. The memory of it comes back to the forefront of her mind almost immediately, and in the cold, almost deserted space of the buildings basement, she shudders. 

Armon (she had thought it was quite a strange name) had sat across the desk from her, staring her down with a wide smile and eyes too big to be natural. Why, just looking at him made her _own_ eyes water! He'd chuckled too loud, said not enough, asked her the strangest questions, and she'd still taken the job. She regretted, more than anything, not looking for work anywhere else. Surely it wasn't meant to be so easy. 

Faye squints a little at the wooden desk in front of her, gaze darting around the room like it might tell her something. She'd gotten the job a little over two months ago, and since then she'd half suspected Armon had pitied her after the story of how her family struggled. But now she wonders whether he just wanted a worker with no other experience who wouldn't question his authority. 

There's a loud bang from behind one of the doors across the room and she jumps, along with the other five women sat scattered around the basement. They share spooked glances - one chuckles awkwardly - and all of them drag their eyes away back to stare at nothing. Not Faye. Her skin tingles with fear, and she decides she's had enough. It wasn't worth it, not even for her family. She'd find work someplace else, she wouldn't let her mother die, wouldn't let her sons starve. 

She grabs her coat and bag and hurries up the steps. The first floor is a mess of corridors she can't even begin to understand, but she followers signs, doubling back when lost, until she stands outside Armon's office. She hesitates outside the door, knuckles an inch away from knocking. Her gut is churning enough to make her sick and her throat feels as thought it's closed. 

But skin hits wood and the door swings open not a moment later. His eyes stare down at her and Faye's skin crawls like a thousand bugs have climbed onto her without her noticing. He steps to the side, leaving so little room she has to duck under his arm to step inside. She can feel his grin on her back as she folds her hands in front of her and waits for him to speak. He doesn't, so she swallows nervously, eyes darting around before she says anything. 

He's moving before she even has the chance to open her mouth, though, sitting behind his desk with a barely audible sigh. She stays stood in place, even as his calculating eyes snap back up to her. It's only then that she notices the folders strewn in front of him, seven in total, some with pictures, all with writing. She can feel curiosity bubbling up, almost pushing the fear to the side, and she has only a moment to realise who's pictures she's looking at. 

"Do you know who this is?" 

It hits her like a physical force, and she flinches away from the sound of his voice. He's leering at her when she looks at him, quickly directing her gaze to the folders in front of her. She doesn't dare touch them, doesn't dare get any closer, but she moves her attention from him long enough to read the papers.

"Ye- yes.. I do. That's Black Widow. Shu- she's one of the Avengers."

"What do you know about her?"

"Well, she used to work for SHIELD, right? She, um, stops bad guys," even as the words leave her mouth, she flushes.

"How?"

The question makes Faye bite her lip and furrow her brow, and she worries, for a moment, that her next words might not come out as _words_ rather than a jumble of sounds.

"I.... I.. suppose she.. kills them?" 

The noise he makes then... she knows she'll never forget it, a low sound, almost a moan, and when her wide eyes flicker too his face, he's smiling. No, not smiling. It's a vile, predatory jeer, and just the sight of it makes Faye scared she's going to piss herself. Piss herself, or throw up. Then Armon's eyes shoot down to one of the folders and hers follow. He picks it up slowly, turning it half towards her, and she can't help but lean a little closer, even as she feels like she's suffocating. 

It's Black Widow again, red hair framing a face suited more for a model than, well, whatever it is she does. Her face is stern, facing to the side of the camera, and Faye can see a red-purple bruise on her cheekbone. Faye knows she's wearing a cat suit that she herself could never imagine doing _anything_ in, one with electric blue lines along the sides. 

"Do you know," Armon sounds like he's trying not to shout, teeth grit and lips pulled back into a sneer. "Who did that to her?"

"No, sir," Faye takes a step back. 

"A robot. A _fucking robot_." 

"Oh."

He shakes his head quickly, eyes flashing sickeningly with crazy light, and when he laughs it sounds like he's being strangled. She can see his nails digging into his palms, and she grip her bag tighter, her mind screaming at her to leave while her legs are frozen. When he finally stops, it's sudden, his screeching disappearing like they'd never been there. His shoulders are heaving, though, heaving like he's struggling to breath. 

"Nothing hurts what's mine," his voice is a growl, spit flying from his mouth as he snarls. " _Mine._ She'll look so good all cut up."

And he laughs again. Laughs like Faye's not even in the room, laughs like he's not talking about a real person. She feels dizzy, like the world is spinning a million miles an hour. Her mouth is dry and limbs shaking as her foot knocks against the closed door. He stops laughing. His eyes flash as he turns to her. Faye, in a moment of clarity, scolds herself until she can hear nothing else. She must be careful now, she can feel it in her gut, because his expression shows that she needs to be careful with her words.

"So, what did you come here to tell me?"

"I quit."

Her eyes widen when the words leave her mouth, face draining of colour and hand sliding across the wall for the doorknob. Armon screams like a wild animals, and she lets out a cry of her own, only hers is filled with more terror than his ever was. 

* * *

She can feel the gun on her thigh with every step she takes, the knife in her boot, and the burn in her hand muscles for carrying the _other_ gun for so long. Her footfall is hardly silent, twigs snapping and leaves crunching; it's enough to have her body tense, even if no one else can hear her. She doubts that, though. Every step echoes around the silent trees, breaking the halcyon of the morning sun and the quiet bliss of nature. 

Calling it peaceful... now she's just lying to herself. Her skin prickles with the frosty chill in the air, hair obscuring her vision, no matter how short it might be, and her eyes dart around like she's going to see something. Someone. But she's been out here almost two hours already, and there's still nothing. She's starting to wonder whether Fury got the wrong place, or if this was some sort of drill. She wouldn't put it past him to make her do those still.

There's a wind that wraps itself around her neck, and for a moment she fears someone's strangling her before she forces herself to take a breath. Searching for Armon had made her tense, if that was the right word, tense and _jumpy._ She tells herself to calm down, breath a white mist in front of her. She wishes she's wearing more layers. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Natasha trudges onwards, eyes scanning the trees around her. 

Something hit the ground in front of her feet, and her gun swings in a full circle, finding nothing. She stoops down, hand closing over a crumpled piece of paper. It feels thick for the most part, but it's worn down in the middle, and after a moment she realises she can see smudges of black ink. She holds her gun at a different angle as she makes to unfold the yellowed paper, holds it so she can no longer fire instantly. Her eyes widen before narrowing to slits as the ink stretches into three slanting, jagged words.

_I see you._

She drops the note, fumbling for her gun as she looks around. There's nothing, no movement in the trees beyond, not even a bird or a falling leaf. The hairs on the back of her neck rise as her grip on her gun turns white knuckled and her teeth grind together until it's painful. It rings heavily on the side of her head, and she grunts as she rolls away, kicking her leg out behind her and feeling it hit someone. The world spins as she climbs to her feet, pistol staring at the man in front of her as she blinks away her dizziness. 

He's dressed in winter gear, and she might have mistaken him for a hiker, wrong time wrong place, perhaps, if it wasn't for the black ski mask pulled over his head. She doesn't wait, fingers tightening on the trigger and unloading two shots into his chest. There's no time to watch him die, so she turns, his scream echoing behind her and she runs. There's two on either side of her now, running to catch up.

One reaches for her arms and she elbows him in the throat, scowling when the other one has her in a choke hold. She flips him over her shoulder, kicking the other one in the groin and shooting twice. Her breath is loud: not as loud as the gunfire. They will have heard, no matter where they are. She knows they're coming, she can hear snapping branches in the distance, for God's sake. She can hear a _lot_ of branches snapping. 

Nerves twist her stomach as Natasha sprints forwards, twigs giving away her every move and breath fogging in front of her. She regrets not doing more stretches before the mission began. They're shouting behind her now - screaming really - and she forces herself to run faster, even as her muscle burn. Someone tackles her and she flings her arm around to hit him as they both fall to the ground. She rolls off him, empties her bullets in her first gun and pulls the second. 

She decided she's never doing scouting missions again, not if they end up like this. She dodges the first few punches, but they're in a circle around her, more filling gaps when she shoots. There's suddenly a high whining in her ears, and split second electric shock between her temples. The world spins, her body aches, and the ground is harsh and an almost welcome comfort as she blacks out, even with twigs and dirt poking her face. 

* * *

A thundering headache pulls Natasha from unfeeling, and she squeezes her eyes shut against the aching across her body. The front of her skull throbs like a drum and the quiet whimper she makes scratches her throat like a razor blade. Her arms are heavy to move and her muscles scream until she resists further movement, slumping, and realising her back is against a wall. It's with a sharp stab of fear that she notices the metal bindings on her ankles and wrists as she peels her eyes open, wincing even though there's hardly any light in the room.

There's a dripping, like a tap, a leak in the roof, perhaps. Her fingers brush against something wet as she slides her hands across the floor on either side of her and she flinches. Pulling her limbs back towards her pulls a groan of agony from her, but she huddles as close as she can to herself and tries not to smell the sweat and mold around her. The hairs on her arms stand up against the cold draft, goosebumps rising along her skin and her breath, though she can't see it, fogging in front of her face. 

She sits, her breaths echoing around the walls and her body shaking from pain and cold. The stench of the room makes her gag, clogging her nose and choking her throat with thick ribbons of horror. She moves to hide her nose against her knees, succeeding even though her spine and neck burn, and her head throbs. Natasha tries to inhale as little as possible whilst trying to take deep breaths to calm herself. 

Sweaty hands slide over the cuffs digging into her ankles, searching blindly in the dark for some way to release herself. Still, after pulling and prodding, she knows she has made no progress and slumps backwards with a scowl. It's then that a loud _CLICK_ sounds from a little way in front of her and her back straightens, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

His silhouette casts a shadow in the narrow beam of light that makes it through the door, and Natasha briefly notices the dark, damp patches on the walls and floor before she focuses on him. He's approaching her slowly, slightly heavy pants just audible over the loud clapping of his footsteps. The light moves behind him, leaving only half his face in shadow, and her stomach coils to see him watching her. She looks up at him with the harshest glare she has when he stops in front of him, staring down at her with a leery smile.

She can see the excitement on his face, the unbridled desire for _something,_ and the madness painted in the deep lines of his face. And yet, when her eyes glower into his, she can't help the shudder in her spine at the pure hatred she sees there. It's Armon, alright, the deep lines on his face an exact match to the Middle Eastern man she'd seen on the file Fury had given her. 

"Natasha Romanoff. At last, we meet again."

"Funny, I don't remember meeting you before. And I'm sure I would," she grits her teeth hard, trying to angle her head to see him better, to glare at him better through the shadows.

Still, she can't quite make out what the expression on his face is. He gives a grunt, and she's not sure whether he likes her response, or if he's holder himself back from choking her. She almost wishes for the second. Her mind flickers with all the ways she can incapacitate him if he lashes out and follows anger rather than logic, but he doesn't. She thinks, for a moment, she can see his muscles tensing, but he breaths deeply, and no outbursts come. 

"Well, I remember _you,"_ his face is suddenly filled with so much ire that she can't help but jerk backwards. "You, and your pathetic excuse for a team. It's a wonder you stopped my plans last time," he scowls, before a slow, sinister smile takes its place. "But not today."

He laughs. Chills rise along Natasha's arms as he crouches down in front of her, too far away for her to reach, much to her disappointment. Her eyes track his hand as he slowly extends it towards her, drawing back until her head hits the wall. He doesn't stop until his calloused fingers brush against her cheek, barely touching her skin, but enough that nausea and hate make her dizzy. His hand pats her hair almost fondly, and he finally moves away. And when he speaks, his voice is nothing but a whisper. 

" _You're mine now."_ __

With one last smirk, he stands and shuts the door behind him, but even then, Natasha doesn't dare breath.

* * *

Armon arrives with the whispers of the air around him announcing his presence as he walks briskly through the door to Natasha's cell. She can't tell how long it's been since his initial visit, but she has a sense that it's been a while. Her arms no longer burn with the strain of moving them, and her head pounds only on occasion. Her bodies' triumphs come with drawbacks, however. Her stomach has stopped growling at her by now, but her mind nags for food, the thought of eating making her nauseous. 

Natasha remembers times where she had gone without food, how it had felt, and yet this feels _worse_ to her, as though her stomach is caving in on itself. Her mouth waters at the thought of almost anything to eat, yet she systematically feels the crawl of sickness up her throat and the turn of her gut, making the stabbing in her abdomen worsen. Her throat burns with dehydration, her limbs weak and her head dizzy. 

Still, she forces herself to stare ahead at the door as often as she can, unaware if he has cameras watching her or not. She reminds herself that she's survived this before, even as the hopeless dread overwhelms her every few hours. And so, she looks on, sat in her own piss and choking of the smell of it and blood and damp, waiting for him to come back. Waiting, and waiting for something. The vague thought that he's going to kill her is forced away every time it comes to focus, and she refuses to admit that she can see no way out of this. 

When he finally walks through the door, she's almost relieved. Her shoulders cramp when they square up at his approach, and her throat burns as she tries to swallow even though her mouth is dry and scratchy. He smiles crookedly down at her, keeping himself out of arms reach. Her knuckles tingle, and she thinks about smashing them into his face until he's bruised and bloody. 

"Good morning, Natasha," he greets her in a dangerous, friendly manner, flexing his fingers casually around the bottle in his hand. 

"Maybe for you," she mutters, out of breath.

"Ah, you're right about that."

He chuckles and crouches down in front of her, shadowed and much taller than her hunched up form. He's still too far away, and she scowls. 

"Would you like to hear about today's plans, Natasha?"

She can't stop her mouth from twisting into a frown, bearing her teeth and clenching her fists, her body burning as her muscles tense. Her eyes are wide as she stares at him, the whites bloodshot and the skin heavy and dark. The chains at her ankles rattle as she lunges forwards, flinging her arms out, desperate to sink her nails into him, to make him hurt. It's to her disappointment as he leans backwards, just out of reach.

She can feel rage so strong she feels, for a moment, that she can't breath, hands shaking and breath sharp, fast pants, as his laugh echoes too loud in her ears. The joy, the hysteria in his voice repulses her, and she can feel her body constricting as he almost topples over, trying to control his grin like she just told him the funniest joke ever thought of.

"Oh, Natasha, Natasha, Natasha, you're making me wish I'd done this sooner! Now, since you clearly have _no_ interest in my attempt to be civil, I'll have to get straight down to business."

"Business? You mean torturing innocent people," she rolls her head along the wall to glare at him. "Like you did in Texas? And Nevada?"

"So you've been keeping watch on me? How many people have you sent to stop me?"

"Not enough."

"You never will," he snarls, making like he's about to lurch forwards and strangle her before composing himself. "You can't stop me. You _won't._ They won't be able to without _you."_

He sighs heavily, making sure she's watching as he places the bottle beside him and leaning slowly to the side. Her breathing shakes as she resists the urge to try and reach for the water, her body, her mind, begging her to do whatever it takes to get it. Armon sounds cruel as he observes her, a small smile making his teeth shine in the darkness. 

"Would you like a drink, Natasha?"

She keeps her mouth shut as he growls at her silence. He stands, almost as if he's threatened now that she's sat as tall as she can, arms almost crossed and chin jutted out. There's a ringing _CLANG_ as he kicks the bottle to her. The collision with her leg shoots with pain, but her fingers are fumbling with the lid before she even has a chance to realise it. The water tastes better than anything she's ever drank before, soothing her throat and cold in her empty stomach. 

It's gone in a matter of seconds and all she can think about is how she ~~wants~~ needs more. She wipes the spilt water off her chin with the back of her hand, chest rising and falling rapidly as she silently asks for more. Her grip is tight around the bottle, and she ignores his request to have it back, holding it until it hurts. Finally, he sighs, glancing towards the door as two more men enter, carrying a heavy metal box between them. 

Natasha hates the bang it makes as they set it on the ground just behind Armon, stepping back until they're flanking him. She eyes it cautiously, her previously defiant demeanour reduced to something more worried. He smirks at her, gesturing to one of his lackeys, who hesitates for a moment as if confused, before flicking a switch near the door. 

Lights flood her vision and Natasha squeezes her eyes shut on instinct. The light is dim, a dingy, old yellow that, despite its poor quality, is still far brighter than she's gotten accustomed to. She sees, for the first time, the room she's in, and her stomach rolls with the promise that, had there been anything in it, she would have thrown up. 

The walls are brick, worn and flat, dripping with dirt and dried blood. She hardly dares move with the sight of the layers of dirt and grime she suddenly knows are behind her back, caked in her hair and cemented to her skin. There's dark stains on the concrete floor, yet more blood and piles of a large combination of things she'd rather not distinguish. Her eyes sting with horror as she inwardly yells at herself not to glance at the ceiling. She notices the way the guards look at each other, the discomfort and disgust on their faces now that they've finally seen where they are.

Their hands shuffle nervously at their guns, and they shift on their feet likes they're ready to run. But not Armon. No, he walks over to the case like there's no place he would rather be, breathing deeply despite the smell as he snaps open the locks, turning his head back to look at her with a smirk. 

"Don't worry, Natasha. I won't be torturing any innocent people today. Only _you."_

She watches him reach into the box with no small amount of worry, eyeing the contraption he lifts out. It's a small, metal... thing with what looks to her like pliers on one side and a small pole on the other. Armon holds it as though it might break at the slightest touch, eyeing it with rapture as his eyes move up to find hers. Her stomach lurches uncomfortably with a twist of dread, and she pulls her arms and shoulders inwards without thinking about it. 

Time seems slow as he moves towards her, his guards trailing a little behind him, unsure expressions on their faces. He crouches down in front of her, staring down at the thing in his hands. She doesn't realise he's within arms reach until the guards are lifting her and tying down her arms, strapping them to the wall behind her. Turning her head, she sees leather straps attached to the wall over her head, and she wonders how she didn't notice them before, even in the dark. 

She struggles as best she can, shaking her arms and legs despite being shackled. She accomplishes nothing, only intensifying the pain already lurking under her skin. They both step backwards after tightening the straps so that they dig into her wrists. Somehow, she doubts they're the least of her problems. Armon stands once his guards are clear and steps closer still. 

Natasha tries her best to balance with her hands above her and her ankles practically flat against the floor, her body supported only by her elevated wrists and hanging in the air from her knees upwards. She grunts with the effort of it, trying to stand - or as close as she can get - taller. His laugh makes her already cold skin chill even more, and her muscles tense as his hand barely brushes hers. 

His face is a wavy yellow in the light when she looks up at him, not that much taller now that she's half-stood. He smiles down at her, prying her fingers apart with his free hand. She strains her muscles in an attempt to stop him, but it only takes a moment for him to overpower her. 

"I've looked forward to this for a while, Natasha," he says quietly.

"What exactly is this?" her voice echoes in the silence. 

"Oh, Natasha, I didn't think you'd be so impatient!" his chuckles stop as he sees her glare. "Come now, surely you can appreciate the surprise." 

Her arm burns as she tries to move further away from him and he grabs the fingers of her right hand in a bruising grip, holding them still as she squirms. He's not looking at her face anymore, instead studying her nails. Her hand itches to be free from the crushing weight of his hold, to leave the uncomfortable, slightly sweaty prison she's caught in behind. But he doesn't relent, no matter how she twists her wrist in its confinement. 

"Hold still, Natasha," he says, suddenly stern. "This'll be much easier if you Just. Hold. Still."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to say that this will be the last chapter. Thank you all so much for reading!


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